Pinoy Wandering Boy

In Support of El Hogar

2016-03-30T01:49:00.000+08:00

Coron Again, Naturally

2016-03-29T21:05:00.000+08:00

I went to Coron in 2015 alone. Spending 2 days in the island wasn't enough. I simply craved for more. And so, as the plane hovered above and away from Busuanga, I promised myself that I would go back. Soon. It happened, 8 months after the short jaunt, I was in again for a Coron adventure - and this time with close friends from college. What made the trip much sweeter was the fact that it was all-expense paid, courtesy of a dear friend who's based in the UK.

Banol is the name of this small packet of white sand beach. Our tour guide said it got its name from a chest of gold found in the area.

Loads of boats often flock to this small makeshift docking area. From here, tourists take a short trek to Kayangan Lake.

My friend, Eileen (middle) brought a Fujifilm Intax that had 20 rolls of film. It made the trip more nostalgic than it already was.

Gab, my friend's husband, is Hungarian. They met in Malaysia and moved to the UK. He has a penchant for history and he loves trying out new stuff.

Joining the trip is Birgit who's originally from Austria. She spent years in Spain before moving to the UK where she's currently based. She's planning to do a world tour soon.

My friend, Eloisa and her husband. Eloi is a college friend. She is from Nasugbu, Batangas. She has this loud and infectious laugh which is simply endearing. One of the many things I love about her.

View from the villa at the northern part of the Balinsasayaw Resort. It gets very quiet at night, even the sound of waves lapping the shore seems muffled.

Another thing to love about our stay in Balinsasayaw Resort is the food - fresh and delicious.

My friend, Joy, and I go a long way back. We used to argue a lot. Haha.

I didn't get to see a few other attractions in Coron the first time I went there. Baraccuda Lake was one of them.

How time flies! I can't believe it's been 10 years since college.

We ended our trip on a high note - doing a trek to Mt. Tapyas. Hiking up at 10 in the morning is not a good idea.

Watch the video of our Coron trip.

Coronicles from Ryan Mach on Vimeo.

Fortune Island: Of Ruins, Cliffs and Models

2015-06-05T07:21:00.003+08:00

Fortune Island: Of Ruins, Cliffs & Models

This may sound a bit harsh but let's just say that the beach in Fortune Island is unattractive and well, quite forgettable. The long stretch of coarse and pebbly shore is littered with chicken bones, shards of glass, dried up dog crap and bits and pieces of trash left by campers. Swimming in the shallow area of the beach can be a bit challenging too because it's strewn with rocks in varied sizes and texture.

Boat moored at the shore

But what it lacks in aesthetics make up for its character and overall vibe. There is a beautiful ruin on top of the hill, which apparently is Fortune Island's main draw. The ruined acropolis, built and eventually abandoned by the Levistes, is reminiscent of The Parthenon in ancient Greece. Haughty Dorian columns out in the open, perfect backdrops for themed, and sometimes silly but fun pictorials.

Dorian columns

Detail

The columns in B&W

Our tour organizer, the wacky Rommel of TheLittleFoxPh, shared with us as we were approaching the town of Nasugbu, the jump-off point to Fortune Island, that the island is being claimed by various parties causing some political disputes over the ownership of the island. We were told that it's currently owned by some Korean businessman and operated by local folks of Nasugbu. "You can't simply go to the island without making prior arrangements with the operators," he cautioned. Someone on the island will check your receipt. If it's not issued by authorized people, well, I assume they tell you to get your butts back to the boat and go back to the mainland.

People flock the columns

I didn't notice anyone inspecting our 'papers' upon arrival. I was busy observing the beach while helping the group transfer the goods from the boat to the shore. Since it couldn't dock at the shallow area, we were obliged to hop off while getting soaked in the process. We couldn't complain at this point anyway because we're already wet to begin with. The waves back in Nasugbu greeted us with a splash, literally.

Our camp site as viewed from the acropolis

What greeted us in Fortune Island was the huge number of tents occupying the entire stretch of the beach. Weekends, typically. Our organizer who knew the place quite well (it's his fourth time there) found us a place to settle. Our spot, which we owned 'legally' by putting rocks around it, was just a few steps away from the acropolis so we could go up there and back down to our tent in a jiffy!

The acropolis as viewed from the beach

After setting up the tents, Rommel whisked us off to enjoy and explore the place. The sun was about to set, it cast a beautiful and warm yellow light all over the acropolis, which was now swarmed by people who all wanted to have the place by themselves.

Photo-ops at the columns

Creative shot

Since I didn't know anyone in the group, except for Rommel, I played a loner by sitting near the columns, watching people pose and do creative shots. Some groups were ballsy enough to stand dangerously near the precipice just to get the perfect photo they're aiming for.

Dusk setting in

Back at the camp, my tour mates, mostly composed of librarians, were having problems cooking rice. Tempers were running high, stomachs were growling and the fatigue from the long drive and boat ride had finally taken its toll. Dinner was served a little late.

Rice

There was bonfire, and marshmallows, and games to get everyone back in the mood. We capped the night off with a few rounds of Emperador. The stars we fervently hoped to see were shrouded by

thick clouds. They only appeared during dawn, while I was still asleep.

Nasugbu at night

Bonfire is allowed in the beach

Photo credit: Angelo Nelson

I was actually feigning sleep. I heard people rise and talk about going up the acropolis but I wasn't interested to join the fun. It's four in the morning and I was pissed. My inconsistent sleep pattern had made me sour and grumpy. Missing the stars was a decision I would regret in the next days especially after seeing the photo of the magnificent constellation which was captured by one of my tour mates and shared on Facebook. I didn't catch the sunrise too. Boo.

The cliff

I heard no boo's when I jumped off the cliff at the rocky section on the other side of the island. The cliff offers an adventure to those who want to conquer their fear of heights and water. If you wish a more intense adventure, you can freely go up to a higher section of the rocks. I say 'freely' because there's nobody there to stop you. In other words, there are no lifeguards in the area. As a matter of fact, there is no guard in Fortune Island.

Watch me jump!

Drowning lad being rescued by an Indian guy

Nobody did stop a seemingly daring lad from jumping off a risky section of the rocks, away from the regular jumping spot. The impact of the fall had probably caused him some stress which made him exhausted. Treading in the water with difficulty, he called for help from the spectators above him, us included, complaining that he couldn't make it anymore. His racket helped get the attention of a group of Indian guys who braved the waters and rescued him.

The camp at 9AM

Braving the scorching sun, a group of boys gamely agreed to act as models for the commissioned photoshoot I did for a friend for her online shop. The challenge was for them to sell two items

through pictures. They did deliver! It was fun! Here are some of their photos:

Giorgio Armani

Aviator Ray Ban

The LittleFox tries modelling

Reading Murakami

The columns make for a great backdrop

Summer

Look up, young man!

My friend sells original Ray Ban, Giorgio Armani colognes, bags, shoes and many more. You can check her items by going to her FB page and Instagram account.

The not-so-fun part happened on our way back to Nasugbu. We had to wait for more than 2 hours for the boat that didn't arrive. We ended up taking a large fishing boat. It was such a big hassle but in retrospect, it was a memorable experience in itself.

Crate at the fishing boat

Rommel sharing the hassles we encountered with the resort manager

Itinerary (based on TheLittleFoxPh's)

Budget: 1,999 (Includes accommodation, transportation and boat transfer and food)

Day 1
07:30AM- Meet up at Jollibee - Cubao Farmers
08:00AM- Departure

12:00AM- Lunch at Nasugbu Town Proper
1:00PM- Market to buy food and provisions

Fresh produce at the wet market in Nasugbu

03:30PM- Departure to Fortune Island
04:30PM- Fortune Island, Camp set up
05:00PM- Free time, Swimming, sunset, firewood gathering, Pictorial,
06:00PM- Dinner Preparations
07:30PM- Dinner time
09:00PM- Socials (Booze, Campfire)

10:00PM - Lights out

Day 2

05:00AM- Wake up call
05:30AM- Breakfast Preparation
06:00AM- Sunrise
07:00AM- Breakfast time
08:00AM- Pictorial, Columns, Hill Climbing
09:00AM- Cliff Diving, swimming,
10:00AM- Lunch preparations
10:30PM- Lunch Time
11:00PM- Swimming

03:00PM- Boat ride to Nasugbu
05:30PM- Shower
07:00PM- Dinner

08:00PM- Departure to Manila

Meet the whole gang.

Photo by Christian Albay

Meet Tarra, our non-human companion in Fortune Island

Summer in Cagbalete

2015-05-23T20:53:00.002+08:00

I was a little brokenhearted in the summer of 2014. Before springing on a Jam Liner bus in Cubao for a long road trip down south, I posted a rather bitter status on Facebook ("I'm going to the beach and I'll forget about you, b*tch") to let everyone know how sullen I was but of course, nobody cared even if it was a finely crafted line, or so I thought. The beach I was referring to was Cagbalete, an island off Mauban in the province of Quezon.

It was going to be a long bus ride, my travel companions had cautioned but I didn't really mind. I was going to sleep anyway. When you're seated next to someone who had lots of stories to share, sleeping was simply hard to come by. My bus mate and I ended up talking about work and career and everything in between all the way to Lucena. We managed to steal a few minutes of sleep before the bus halted at a quiet terminal in Lucena.

We arrived quite early. Buses bound for Mauban didn't start operating before 5AM. So we waited. It pained us to wait, so we asked around to see if there were other alternative means of getting to Mauban without waiting for the bus. I don't remember how we got the jeepney that was willing to take us to Mauban though I recall sneaking away from the terminal and finding the jeepney parked at a gasoline station. We split the fare with a group of Cagbalete-bound travelers we found at the terminal. Slick.

Just before reaching the languid town of Mauban, a torrential rain poured in buckets, stalling us from getting off the jeepney parked beside a waiting shed. The downpour eventually subsided, leaving an overcast sky, rendering the morning a gloomy panorama. I began lowering my expectations. Rains have somehow ruined my trips to the beach in the past. I suspected the same for our Cagbalete trip.

Under a drizzle, we roamed around town to look for a place to eat and to buy food for our overnight jaunt in Cagbalate. Buying food in Mauban is a practical thing to do when you're doing a DIY trip to the island.

As we scooted to the jetty, ignoring a bunch of men trying to scam us by offering a ride (Malayo yung pier, sir), we saw a rainbow and a cluster of puffy clouds in the horizon, signalling a sunny day. The appearance of the rainbow and the prospect of a good weather should make us stoked

but the series of offers from locals who were clearly taking advantage of us had left a bad taste in our mouths.

Didn't mean it spoiled the experience though. Fortunately, my travel companions simply knew how to travel and have fun. Now, those two are fundamentally essential if you're gunning for a great travel experience. So yeah, there was a lot of ranting and the expletives hurled were as intense as the waves. It was a fun, bumpy and wet ride to the island.

Someone from the group had made arrangements with one of the resorts in Cagbalete. I've heard there are two docking points in the island. There's one that requires some trekking. Our boat parked a few kilometers from the shore because the beach normally gets very wide at low tide. We didn't have to trek to the resort but we needed to do some wading and walking.

It was May; high season apparently. A lot of campers and beachcombers had settled under a shaded area fronting the beach. Our hut was still occupied and the guests were not checking out until 1AM so we momentarily stayed at one of the benches shrouded by a big Talisay tree.

While waiting for lunch, my friends played frisbee; I slumped on a grass-carpeted area, took out my book and camera, read, photographed and observed the beach, which was charming with its wide pocket of white sand glowing and extending to the blue ocean in the horizon.

We scurried off to our rented hut after filling our bellies with the provisions we bought from Mauban (grilled squid and pork sinigang, if I remember it right, we cooked ourselves).

The humid afternoon beckoned for a siesta - my spot at the attic was too hot so I opted to curl on the bamboo bench haphazardly left outside the hut.

A couple of hours later, I woke up at a virtually empty accommodation, my back soaked with sweat. I heard some shrieking and squawking from afar - a dead giveaway that my companions were frolicking on the beach, which had transformed into a completely different view. The sand bar was gone so was the wide white sand. One of the things I liked about the beach was its shallow waters. You have to wade a few meters away from the shore until you reach the part where you can properly swim. There wasn't much waves too even when it rained. The seabed wasn't particularly clean, with dead seaweeds and shattered corals here and there. We heard there used to be a rampant illegal fishing activity.

The rain was back in the evening, though not as strong as the one that welcomed us in Mauban. If anything, the soft pitter-patter of rain made the night idyllic and a little romantic. Literally speaking, there was some romance going on in the area pretty much caused by alcohol. There was booze to be had and jokes to be shared.

In the morning, I set out a little adventure alone propelled by a desire to find that danggit I craved for. The spontaneous journey led me to a small fishing community at the other side of the island. I found no danggit, but I went back to the resort carrying a bucket of enormous but edible shells which I bought from an old lady. Finding that little village added a different layer to the overall personal experience in Cagbalate. It made my little heart problem quite trivial.

My friend did a recent trip to Cagbalete. Read his blog here.

Mt. Pulag - Of Golden Slopes and Sunrise

2015-03-06T06:54:00.001+08:00

The dawn had just broken. The sun began to peek over a sea of clouds. Panting, huffing and puffing like a dog, I made a sprint to the top to catch the rising sun, dodging fellow trekkers along the trail who were equally eager to see the most-awaited moment and the highlight of the trek: the sunrise. It's going to be magical and dramatic. I was going to play that scene on my head over and over again.

Once I reached the top, I realized that I was alone. There was no familiar face on a sea of strangers, save for this one guy who's also part of the group I was in for this Pulag trek. I started to worry. Who's going to take a photo of me with the sea of clouds in the background - proof that I have indeed scaled the summit of Pulag victoriously? I spotted a group of tour guides huddled on a slope and asked the one with the most genial-looking face. His friends giggled and teased him as he fiddled with my camera. The shots were not bad. I thanked him and looked for a nice spot where I could concentrate. I needed to take it all in.

I thought about that sad, heartbreaking short story I read when I was in college. It's about a couple who decided to spend a day in Mt. Pulag before going their separate ways. They reminisced painful memories and they shared bittersweet reveries. In the end, they parted ways. It's devastating.

The desire to watch the sunrise in Mt. Pulag was fueled by that story. The author's descriptions on the sea of clouds were simply captivating, I have since wanted to go hiking in Mt. Pulag. Written by one of my favorite local writers, Eli Guieb, the story entitled 'Kasal' (Wedding) won first prize in Carlos Palanca Awards. Even before seeing pictures of Pulag online, I've long imagined how beautiful it would be to watch the sun rise on top of the mountain with the one you love by your side.

Friends would ask what my ideal date was and I would nonchalantly say, an overnight camping in Pulag. The love of my life and I will hold hands while we trek, smile at each other while we pitch our tent and kiss passionately while we watch the sun rise.

As you would probably have realized by now, I didn't climb Pulag with the person I love. But the trek - wait, this is going to be mushy - was born out of love. It's true what they say that when you love something, you defy the odds just to get or do the thing you love. And for me - well, in this context - that simply means braving a 9-hour road trip from Manila to the Ranger's Station, 3-hour trek from the jump-off point to the camp and another one to reach the summit. Once you're up there, you'll forget how cold it was inside the tent or how sore your legs were. What you'll remember, probably for the rest of your life, is how great it feels to be up there.

The trek was made possible by Biyahe ni Jhyng, a start-up tour company managed by my friend Jhyng who, exhausted of the rat race, decided to quit the corporate world and organized tours instead. The buck never stops from flowing because there are always people, most of them young professionals, wanting a quick getaway. And Jhyng, fueled by her passion to travel, is always willing to take them on an adventure. Her tour packages are affordable and always come with food, which she prepares herself (she's an awesome cook).

There were about 20 people joining the trek, most of them were Jhyng's former colleagues from various companies she worked for. A few were strangers who learned about the tour through Jhyng's Facebook page. The rest were friends tagging along at a discounted rate - myself included - but each had a role to play to make the tour easy, i.e. helping out in pitching the guests' tents, preparing dinner and breakfast and what-have-you.

Jhyng made the entire thing a breeze because she practically took care of everything - from the bus reservation (to and from Baguio) down to the carrying and pitching of tents and fixing dinner. You read that right. Guests did not have to bring their own tent since Jhyng got that covered. For first-timers, this is very convenient as a heavy backpack can easily exhaust one down.

The adventure began 11PM at the Victory Liner terminal in Caloocan. Half of the bus was occupied by Jhyng's guests who slept the trip off, only waking up 6 hours later when the bus halted in Baguio. We all hopped out rubbing the sands off our eyes and feeling all giddy. As I slurped down a cup of strawberry taho, I watched the eastern sky with trepidation - the clouds were dark and thick, it didn't look like it was going to be a sunny day. But my worries slowly wore off once we were on the road to the Ranger's Station.

We were taking breakfast at a karinderya beside the highway when Jhyng cautioned that the sea of clouds wasn't always guaranteed.

She knew of a few people who have gone to Pulag twice but have never seen the most sought-after 'sea of clouds'. What a downer! I had a strong feeling though that it wouldn't be the case for us. With the sun hammering down on our way to the DENR office where a requisite orientation is done to all trekkers, I didn't think that the rain was even a remote possibility. But it happened - the sky turned grey and dark when we were preparing for the trek at the Ranger's Station.

As I was invariably dressed in a poorly fashion that was remotely ideal for climbing mountains (shirt, shorts, open sandals and company jacket), I knew that I had low defense against the rain. I never really learn, to think that I had subjected myself into a terrible ordeal a year ago when I joined the climb in Tarak under a heavy downpour. But I thought as long as my clothes were safely tucked inside my backpack, everything was going to be all right. And everything turned out to be quite all right.

The rain started to fall, light at first then it poured hard, but we strode quickly, sure-footed down the rutted path, occasionally stopping at some strangely beautiful moss trees. The trail is dotted with a treasure trove of enchanting and wild plants and trees.

Some parts were slippery but we managed to get to the camp in one piece and half-dry.

A lot of tents had been already set up at the base camp, I wondered if there was still some space left for us to pitch ours. We found a decent spot down a clearing near the latrines. Braving the cold, we built our tents in a hurried fashion while fogs rolled in and the temperature quickly dropping. A quirky fellow surprised us when he emerged from his tent on his boxer shorts.

After a quick and uncomfortable dinner, we all cocooned inside our own tents and braced ourselves for a long, cold night. I covered myself up with three layers of clothing but the cold stubbornly seeped in, waking me up from time to time.

Back at the orientation at the DENR office several hours earlier, we were warned by the facilitator that the cold could be unforgiving. At that time, I didn't take it as a threat but a challenge. After all, I was confident that I had high tolerance for the cold. The temperature in Mt. Pulag, suffice it is to say, is something that shouldn't be underestimated. It's especially colder at dawn when the trek to the summit normally commences. I often caught myself wiping the colds which ran down my nose unnoticeably.

The chilly wind blew fiercely against my face as I struggled to keep up with my group. I was in a bad spot because I didn't have a flashlight. It was quite a challenge to tread on a rocky and muddy trail in the dark. There was a lot of groping going on as everyone fought their way to stay on the right track.

The way back from the summit is a different story altogether.

Kanto Freestyle Breakfast - Kapitolyo

2014-03-23T09:02:00.000+08:00

A few months ago, making our way around Kapitolyo in Pasig looking for the inconspicuous Kanto Freestyle Breakfast, we asked a random trike driver if he was familiar with the restaurant. Without batting an eyelash, he pointed us the block at the corner of the intersection. We thought he was taking "Kanto" as kanto. You know, the Filipino term for street corner. Since all cities in the metro have a kanto, asking for it without being clear about it is as tedious as it can get. We ended up eating at a different restaurant.

Traffic free in Kapitolyo

Hanging plants on the gate

Tables are always occupied during the busy hours

But yesterday, as we took a right turn along 1st Street in Kapitolyo, I realized that the trike driver was actually pointing us to the right direction. Kanto is indeed located a few meters away from the intersection of West Capitol Drive and St. Rafael St. I was glad I was with people who know the place by heart. Getting there was a cinch.

Straightforward menu

Getting a table at Kanto however was not. Word has spread around quickly that a new branch can be found in Kapitolyo which is a famous food district in the metro. It didn't come as a surprise to see people flocking at the restaurant even that early. Utterly famished, we had to wait for our turn.

I've been to Kanto's branch in Mandaluyong a few times before when our office was still in Makati. Seeing the new branch in Kapitolyo set inside a residential garage converted into a dine-in restaurant, I couldn't help making some comparisons. The original Kanto Freestyle branch has tables and chairs set up practically along the sidewalk whereas the Kapitolyo branch has them cramped inside a garage space, though it still maintains this neighborhood feel and homey vibe which is palpable in its home in Mandaluyong. There's also a lot of shade in Kapitolyo, thanks to the big tree just outside the gate.

Customers waiting for their turn

The Kanto branch in Kapitolyo doesn't work on pay-as-you-order basis either. The waiters wait for you to be seated then take your order. The bill comes right after you finished your food. Such set-up only becomes an issue if they don't allow placing orders in advance and there's a long queue because your order doesn't get prepared until you have secured a table. They also have a 5% charge on top of the prices.

Photos that chronicle Kanto's humble beginnings

What the Kapitolyo branch has that the old branch doesn't are those framed bywords and motto hanging on the walls. If you ask me however, the place is better off without them.

The quality and taste of food as well as the service remain the same. Here are some of the food we ordered.

French toast with bacon and eggs (90)

Crispy pork belly (90)

Tocino (90)

Blueberry Pancake (90)

Kanto Freestyle Breakfast Kapitolyo
1st Street, Kapitolyo, Pasig City
They are open 24/7
You can follow them in Twitter: @kantobfast and in Instagram: @kantobfast

How to in Get in Kanto Kapitolyo

If you're commuting, you can hop on a jeepney bound for Pasig at Edsa Central along Shaw Blvd then get off at Kapitolyo. When you see the gate beside Petron, take a right turn on the first corner and walk along San Rafael Street until you see 1st Street. Turn left and you will see Kanto Freestyle to your right.

Quick Binondo Food Trip

2014-03-11T08:33:00.001+08:00

Established in 1594 and once home to converted sangleys (people of pure Chinese ancestry), Binondo is the oldest China town in the world. Even before the onset of Spanish colonization in the 16th century, it was already a center of Chinese commerce.

Today, the district still remains a hub of trade for all kinds of businesses, most notably restaurants and food establishments run by Filipino-Chinese merchants. It has also become a favorite go-to place for food trips and even photowalks.

Ready for a full meal

Food stall

Just walk around Binondo and you can see array of shops and restaurants that offer cheap and authentic Chinese food. There are pastries, dumplings and sweat meats like hopia (mooncakes) all sold in affordable prices.

Lotus with egg

Vegetables come aplenty

Fruits and vegetables come aplenty as well. You can also find here exotic items and ingredients such as ginseng, shark fin cartilage, deer horn, dried snake and bird’s nest as long as you know where to look. If not, you can always ask a random store owner, they can point you to the right place. You can probably spot chocolate diamonds for gifts if you look really hard.

Dragon fruit

To the unfamiliar and first-timers, Binondo with its alleys and old structures can be a confusing maze of a place.

Manila Chinatown

Binondo isn't exactly a new place to me or my friend, L. We both have been to this part of Manila before and I was quite confident that my sense of direction wouldn't let us down. But on that sunny Saturday morning, my built-in GPS malfunctioned. We had wandered to the wrong direction.

Church just across the Arch of Goodwill

We were supposed to meet our friend, H at the fountain in front of the church, facing the prominent arch of Ongpin. We had gone off course prompting us to seek help from a street vendor who showed us the way. Hugging our backpacks in front, we went back to where we initially started.

Arch of Goodwill

Despite what other people think about Binondo being not the safest place in Manila, I can honestly say that well, it's not the case. I've been here twice now and in both occasions, I was able to get out completely unscratched. There are probably muggers and snatchers lurking around the area, but as long as you take precautionary measures, you should be okay.

One of the old buildings in Binondo

Now, the food. Ah, with plenty of eateries and restaurants to choose from, it's a bit of a challenge to decide where to spend your hard-earned money. If it's your first time here, it's a good idea to tag along someone who knows the place by heart, or someone who has an idea where to go. In our case, we had H, our Chinese friend, for company. He is a regular in Binondo because his family regularly eats here.

Hakaw

Although he already had a place in mind, he still gave us the liberty to choose which restaurant we wanted to try. Kahit ano, basta may sea food, I told him.

We passed by at Estero, a hash house located beside the river where various meat, seafood and vegetables were on display. Just let the waiters know what you want and they'll fish your order right from the display and have it cooked for you pronto. The selection looked yummy but the pungent smell coming from the river was a big turn-off.

Seafood at Estero

We ended up at The President Tea House (809 Salazar St., Binondo, Manila), an old cinema converted into a dining house. H told us this fact as we were ushered by a Filipino waiter to our table. The structure of the interior is similar to that of a cinema indeed, sans the slope. A spacious area in front where the screen had been is separated by a waist-high divider and was temporarily off-limits to other customers - wedding reception as we learned later on.

Peking Duck on display

Famished, we ordered beef salpicao, steamed shrimp and some pork (I don't remember what it's called).

Condiments

Beef Salpicao

Rice, of course

Shrimp

Some pork dish.

We wanted to try Peking Duck but a whole order cost P800. We talked about work and H's life while wolfing down our food, which wasn't very great, if I were to be honest. The steamed shrimp was a bit chewy and had an after-taste.

When the waiter approached to collect our bill, H asked for a discount. He was told blank-point that they didn't have discount, so H asked for the manager, whom H talked to in Fokien. We were given a 20% off our total bill. Sweet!

It was already past one when we left The President's Tea House. Full, tired and sleepy, we walked our way back to the LRT station on foot, passing by at Binondo Church where we took cover when the rain came pelting down. I also managed to buy some castanas.

Castanas

How to Get to Binodo

If you're commuting, you can take the LRT and get off at Carriedo Station. Walk toward the old BPI building and turn right until you see Binondo Church. You can also take a cab up to Binondo Church. Or hop on a jeepney bound to Sta. Cruz and get off at Carriedo.

El Nido Tour A: There and Back Again

2014-03-08T10:17:00.001+08:00

El Nido is love at first sight. After seeing and experiencing some of its islands, I fell irrevocably in love with it. It's one of those places that I'd gladly come back time and time again. The fact that I went there twice within a relatively short interval speaks volume of how much I love it. You see, I spent my birthday in El Nido in January of 2013. Three and a half months later, I once again found myself traversing the long road north of Puerto Princesa aboard an air-conditioned bus, my heart throbbing with excitement. To put it romantically, I was back in the arms of love. And oh, I was happy!

The trip was a little different the second time around but it was sweeter nonetheless especially that I was with friends, who added a new dimension and layer to the experience. When we planned our Palawan getaway back in January, I made it straight and clear to them that I'd be spending 3 whole days in El Nido which means I'd be skipping the Underground River Tour. They were cool about it, although I sensed some disagreement that stemmed from the fact that the trip was supposed to be group getaway - and there I was doing my own thing.

On Day 1, I was practically alone in El Nido. My friends arrived at 3 in the morning the next day, tired and already sun-tanned. They complained rather enthusiastically about the awfully long trip from Puerto Princesa. We'd wake up from time to time, only to find out that we're still on the road, they told me. Spooked out after hearing a story from fellow passengers about mishaps on the road, i.e, bus windows getting busted from stones hurled by unknown perpetrators. "We were asked if we were carrying illegal mangoes!" one of them blurted out, eliciting laughter from everyone. I advised them to catch up on their sleep. Room was rather small for five people but it had a working A/C. We all conked out and got up at seven in the morning. There was ample time to take shower and apply sunblock. By eight, we were ready to head down to the beach for the day's tour but not after taking a breakfast.

They were keen about spending less while in El Nido so they only had home-made sandwich for breakfast. I couldn't even coerce them to eat with me at Art Cafe.

Instead, they watched me eat as they applied sunblock deliberately. I turned a deaf ear when they made a comment about my being a spendthrift. It hurt a little but the bacon tasted great. I argued by telling them I had a tummy issue and that I needed to eat well. Offered them some bacon, they refused.

It was already a quarter past 8 when we left Art Cafe and walked along the narrow pathway leading to the Northern Inn office where we're gently whisked off to the front beach to wait until the boat was ready for boarding.

Island hopping tours in El Nido can sometimes be a waiting game. Some start at exactly 9AM, others leave a little late. Like ours. Well, the delay was mainly due to our tour mates who came a few minutes past nine.

The boat weaseled its way out amidst a tangle of boats parked closely to one another. A crew of four introduced themselves, and Dude, our guide started the tour by giving us a little history on El Nido.

Dude was happy to learn that there was no foreigner in the tour. But our friend, H, could easily pass as a foreign tourist (he's Chinese to begin with) so we decided that he'd be our foreigner companion who didn't know how to speak Filipino.

The crew members of the boat, including Dude, believed our story right off the bat. Unfortunately, H ruined our little charade by talking in Filipino which made our tour guide, Dude, heave a sigh of relief. "Hindi na dudugo ang ilong ko," he quipped rather cheerfully. Apparently, he has been used to guiding foreign tourists and each tour has required him to speak in straight English.

Everything we needed to know about El Nido, we learned from our tour guide. I don't remember everything he said but I recall quite vividly, even without the aid of photographs, his physical features and physique - a young bronzed and robust man with plenty of stories to tell. The crooked smile and the bulging muscles. His voice, effortlessly modulated, didn't have to compete against the roaring of the boat engine.

The guy was a talking machine, though he admitted that he wouldn't be talking as much as he did if he was with foreigners. "Nosebleed ako dun! Haha." That day, he was guiding a group of eight people, all Filipino, so he didn't have to speak in English. He said, quite proudly without sounding too puffed-up, that he's an achiever. In El Nido tour guiding parlance, he was one of the best. "Before you become an official tour guide, you have to pass the training and there's an oral exam, all in English because you'd be talking mostly to foreigners so the head of the tour committee requires every tour guide to be fluent in English. I have this little book on grammar that I studied. I memorized phrases and greetings. Guess what, on our graduation day, they awarded me one of the best tour guides to pass the training," he shared in Filipino, grinning. We all cheered for him.

He shared compelling stories and funny anecdotes so a few minutes after we began the journey we felt like we were already friends with him.

Big Lagoon

Lagoons are Tour A's main attraction. There is a Big Lagoon and there's also a Small Lagoon. Dude said it's a good idea to drop by at Big Lagoon first because it's much better looking during high tide.

Seeing the lagoon with its bluish green water, I couldn't figure out how it looked like during low tide. Or if the water level did ever go lower. And if it did, would it even make any difference.

Low tide or high tide, it still looked blue, green and beautiful.

When Dude hopped toward the pointy end of the boat, we knew we had to take turns to have our picture taken there too. One of our tour mates took a tad too long, making us look at him in daggers. His companions noticed and shooed him away. Haha.

Then it was time for a swim. As I'm not really comfortable with my swimming skills, I joined the others don the life vest before jumping in the cool, deep lagoon. We realized how deep it was when I accidentally dropped my goggles and one of the guys had to swim several feet below to retrieve it. Its depth kind of scared me so I never dared let go of the life vest.

More boats were going our way, prompting our boat to move along. We all climbed up the boat, applied sunblock and off we went to the next island.

Hidden Lagoon

Approaching Hidden Lagoon

The highlight of our next stop was probably not the hidden lagoon, but the sumptuous lunch we all looked forward to. All the kicking and treading to stay afloat while in Big Lagoon had made us hungry. But lunch had to be cooked and prepared so the guides suggested that we bum around or swim or interact with other tourists. Basically, they wanted us out of their sight. Haha. Waiting proved to be difficult when your tummy was grumbling.

Guide preparing lunch

One of the guides took us to the hidden lagoon tucked inside a huge limestone formation. Getting there was a bit challenging because the water was chest-deep and the rocks were rather sharp. We had to be extra careful as we're carrying cameras. There's a small opening which served as the only way in and out of the lagoon. The hidden lagoon is quite small and the water looked murky. It's not the best place to hang out while waiting for lunch as other tourists wanted to have a peek inside too and it was getting crowded, so we moved our butts off elsewhere.

Hidden Lagoon is tucked inside these rocks

The beach was littered with people, mostly foreigners, lazing under the sun. It had this lazy, summery feel with a vibe that could make you feel sleepy and slack.

Lazy noon

Sun-bathing

I kept myself busy by staring at the towering karst formation surrounding the beach. Our guide said in those rocks you'd find the expensive bird's nest used for the famous Nido soup.

We all rejoiced when the guides announced that lunch was ready. There, under the massive rocks and palm trees, we wolfed down the spread of grilled fish, squid, rice and fruits. Nothing can ever beat lunch on the beach.

Where we had lunch

Sumizu Island

The next stop was just a perfect place to burn off some calories. Sumizu Island, named after a Japanese diver who was stranded and drowned in the island after getting caught up by a storm, features a nice diving spot where one can have a close encounter with various fishes that abound the area.

We were just getting the hang of snorkeling properly when our guides asked us to go up the boat. Already?? We still had two stops to make, they said. I wasn't able to take any photos because I was too engrossed snorkeling. It's really a bummer that we had to leave too soon.

Small Lagoon

Getting to the small lagoon was an adventure in itself. We had to go down the boat and wade through waist-deep water until reaching a small crevice. To cross a rock-laden seabed was no mean feat, it really did slow us down. By the time we got inside the lagoon, our feet were already feeling all stressed out. Our guides realized this so they were extra watchful and made sure everyone was all right.

On our way to Small Lagoon

One of our tour mates was feeling rather ballsy and decided to swim without a life vest. She cried for help mid-way through. Suffered from a leg cramp. A guide had to drag her toward a safe area. Fortunately, there's a large rock in the middle of the lagoon. We all rested there for a bit before resuming the swim toward the cave at the far end of the lagoon. I didn't take my camera since apparently, I couldn't hold it while swimming.

Seven Commando Beach

We left Small Lagoon tired and hungry. The guides promised we're having buko shake at Seven Commando Beach, our last stop for the day.

Hot afternoon

As soon as our boat docked at the far end of the shore, away from other boats, we excitedly dashed toward the mini-bar located at the other end of the beach. It was scorching and the sand was burning. The most-sought after buko shake was nowhere to be found.

There was only margarita and other expensive cocktails.

We went back to the boat feeling a bit frustrated. But the guides simply knew how to pamper us. They had buko juice prepared for us. It wasn't cold but it was enough to quench our thirst. We did a few more snorkeling and swimming and we bid farewell to Ten Commando.

As our boat cut through the oil-calm blue waters, I was reminded yet again why I fell in love with El Nido.

Playing Catcher in the Rye in Mt. Batulao

2014-03-01T10:03:00.002+08:00

"COME ON, MACH, YOU CAN DO IT!" They cheered, all nine of them, my friends and camp mates - my companions on this fun weekend climb. They were encouraging me to go on. I was sitting on a rather comfortable rock jutting conveniently beside the trail (a deus ex machina!), eyeing the summit from afar, silently cursing myself for being a wimp.

"We're almost there!" They shouted back again, their voices sounded shrill amidst the strong gusts of wind that teased, flapped and threatened to uproot me from my spot. I watched Jhyng, Kathy, Kat,

Nitch, Ton and the three guys whose names have now escaped me as they slowly but surely crawled up the aggressively uphill trail. I heard one of them ask if something's wrong with me. I flashed them an OK sign and a fake smile, which I was sure they didn't buy. I knew I was going to be labelled with a thousand different names, all because I was too coward to climb the summit. But what could I do? The peak looked daunting from where I was sitting. I'm afraid of heights. My nerves got the better of me. I was a hopeless case.

The peak as seen from my post.

I remained seated on the same spot for as long as I can remember, barely moving, both hands firmly planted on the rock. I watched my friends grow smaller and smaller until they disappeared from my sight. In between questioning my confidence and doubting my sense of adventure, a fog rolled in and an unwanted rain shower rendered everything in a panoramic haze. Whether the heaven was playing along with my melodramatic reflection or it was simply raining on my parade, I couldn't really tell for sure. Regardless, the raindrops seemed to have washed away the insistent feeling of insecurity albeit momentarily. That, and the stubborn dust caked all over my arms and legs. The trail in Mt. Batulao is a thin tongue of powder and dust which twirls and spins in the slightest wind blow or foot stamp.

Feeling displaced and embarrassed, I amused myself by playing Holden Caufield, a catcher in the rye. The setting couldn't be more perfect. There's a cliff and a precipice. But I was merely a sentinel silently watching trekkers go past my post, bearing witness to young men and women who almost backed out after seeing the intimidating way to the peak (I feel for you, people). None of them did though. Unlike me, they were gutsy enough to reach the top. I was willing to wait there till my friends had all come down but with every stranger passing by (some had bothered to ask what I was doing there), I finally came to a painful realization that made me crawl down: I was a namby-pamby who didn't have business there.

Thinking about it now, I don't really quite understand why I wimped out scaling the summit. It's not even difficult to begin with. At least when you ask the people who have gone to Batulao. Three of our companions were first-time hikers who breezed it. I kept thinking about the hapless girl who lost her life in the same mountain. Although the accident didn't exactly happen at the trail I was dreading, the mere thought that someone did actually fall scared the hell out of me.

That fear could have bottled up mid-way, when we passed by at some seriously narrow pathway with a vertigo-inducing view several feet below. One simple misstep and you could find yourself rolling down. I pathetically groped for every stronghold (mainly grass) I could grab on to, and walked sideways, like a crab. Clutching my chest while breathing heavily, I emerged at a safe intersection with a view that was excitingly uniform: oceanic fields of waving grass that cascaded down a deep ravine.

I glanced at my friends who were trailing behind me. They were sunstruck and chatty. Overhead, against the cerulean sky, an egret (or was it an eagle) soared gracefully, inviting me to drift into a pastoral trance. The failed assault will probably be the first thing that would come to mind when I'd think about Mt. Batulao, but I'd also remember it as a trek that was pleasant in a narcoleptic, summery kind of way.

FROM A DISTANCE, THE RIDGE OF MT. BATULAO was a noticeably irregular contour that arched across the horizon. It jagged randomly but fitfully, reminiscent of Mt. Guiting-Guiting, as if built by someone with a tremulously indecisive hand — a waver of adventure and risk.

Mt. Batulao as seen from the jump-off point

It is one of those mountains that's ideal for first-time hikers. For a majority of its length, the trail is just wide enough for one person to pass through but overall, it's safe and easy. From the jump-off point, the summit can be reached in less than three hours. 30 minutes if you're determined.

That's our guide, Ton, leading the pre-climb warm-up

But our unofficial guide, Ton who has gone there a couple of times, tricked us into believing that the hike would take several hours. Apparently, he was just trolling. At first, it didn't make sense why we were making a few stops considering it was already close to dusk. He was too generous to give us the break we needed - never urging us to hurry. The unhurried pace provided us time to relish the beauty of the slopes. He revealed his little secret to me when we reached Peak 4. "It's not true we still have 26 peaks to go," he grinned and sniggered, pointing stealthily at the camp site a few meters away.

We were at the camp site just before dusk, much to everyone's relief. Ton surveyed the area and decided which surface was suitable for camping. When the moon appeared, we were already making supper. The cold breeze was mildly blowing across our faces. We scurried inside our tents to grab the best clothing to shield us from the chill as it whipped at us there on the exposed slopes of Batulao. It was already past midnight when we finally crawled to our temporary abode. We were drunk and happy. It was a wintry night, I was alone inside the tent. I barely had any sleep but I dreamed about a bariton sax stand at WWBW.

"THIS MOUNTAIN IS NOT IDEAL FOR BEGINNERS," Ton commented in an undertone as we were huddled in a small sari-sari store beside the trail halfway to the camp site. The owners of the store offered us refreshments - halo-halo and buko - which we politely declined. It was beginning to get cold. My friends fancied a cup of coffee.

"Hikers get spoiled by these stores. You'd be surprised to see Mountain Dews sold at the peak," he continued, adding that trekkers should bring their own drink, not buy them at the summit. The unavailability of such treats creates a much sweeter experience, is what he meant. I could only nod in agreement, but I silently longed for that cold Mountain Dew waiting on top of the mountain.

A store that sells liquor just within reach sounds ridiculous but when you've forgotten your bottles of Emperador or Red Horse, it comes very handy. I'm sure Ton understands that locals earn a living by selling those little treats and comforts. They're also responsible for disposing the trash that campers produce in the mountain. And them, guides readily help first-time hikers who have hard time carrying their own bags. Too bad they couldn't help me overcome my fear of heights.

The slope looked moon-washed during dusk

Taking an alternative route to the peak

HOW TO GET TO MT. BATULAO

If you're planning to commute, you can get on a bus bound for Nasugbu or Lemery (Buendia or Taft-EDSA). Tell the driver to drop you off in Evercrest Golf Course in Lemery, Batangas. Or you can simply let the conductor know that you're hiking Mt. Batulao. He'll know where to drop you. Travel time is approximately 2 to 3 hours.

In Evercrest, there are trikes that can take you to the jump-off point. Fare should be PHP 20.00 per head. If you feel like walking, you can also do so.

Sagada Travel Guide: A Journey to the Mountains

2014-02-10T19:44:00.002+08:00

Sagada, Mountain Province

I'm not going back to Sagada again anytime soon, that's for sure.

Let me set the record straight though that I absolutely love Sagada - it's one of the best places I've been to. It's nothing short of awesome to say the least. It's got a perpetually cold weather, enchanting caves and stunning mountain panoramas. But getting there can be a painful ordeal especially for an acrophobic like me. If your fear of heights is as acute as mine, then there's absolutely no way you can sleep off the grueling road trip when you know you're rolling down and clambering up the highway with deep ravines left and right - not to mention the aggressive bends and twists, unless of course you pop a pill that will send you to oblivion for the entire journey.

Bound for Sagada

That was my plan, sure. An antihistamine should do the trick. Take the pill before getting on the bus. Yeah, I do consider myself a big wuzz when it comes to heights, but I just couldn't afford missing the chance of seeing the breathtaking views along the way. So even if I was palpitating like mad, fidgeting in my seat as if suffering from a bad bout of diarrhea, I still had a swell time marvelling at the incredible scenery we passed by.

Photo credit: Lira de la Cruz

But hey, don't let my personal issues with traveling on high roads ruin your plans of going to Sagada. It's an incredible destination, that I can tell you for sure. And so here's a long overdue travel-guide-cum-travel-experience that will hopefully help you plan your trip to this laid-back town.

Getting There

There are no trips that will directly take you to Sagada but there are three available routes you can choose from if you're coming from Manila - these are bus lines that ply via Bontoc, Banaue or Baguio. Bontoc is a 13-hour ride from Manila give or take (including a 1-hour jeepney ride to Sagada); Banaue is roughly 9 hours (3-4 hours of travel via vans or jeepneys) and Baguio, approximately 6 hours (and another 6 to Sagada). See what I did there? Giving you estimates because transportation system in the Philippines is a bit flaky and inconsistent.

Photo credit: Lira de la Cruz

We opted for the Manila>Baguio>Sagada route because it sounded more comfortable. My travel buddy was not a fan of long bus rides so I reckoned it would be a great idea to do a stop-over in Baguio. Cut the travel time in chunks, it felt relatively much shorter. And the upside? We got to spend a night in the summer capital of the Philippines, stroll along the crowded Session Road and bring home a slice of strawberry shortcake from Vizco. (Although, by taking the Manila>Banaue>Sagada route, you're also in for a visual treat as you'll pass by the magnificent rice terraces that Banaue is known for.)

We arrived at the terminal quite early.

After taking breakfast at some eatery near the terminal (oh they serve great tapa!), we embarked on a 6-hour journey aboard a non-airconditioned bus that zigzagged in a long winding road, passed by at Halsema Highway, the highest highway system in the country, and finally arrived in Sagada at mid-day just in time for lunch. I practically heaved a sigh of relief right after stepping out of the bus.

Sagada, finally!

It was a heady trip - something I never want to experience again. But who was I kidding, I was bound to take the same route back to Manila.

Accommodation

Coming to Sagada, we didn't have any idea where to stay. A friend suggested this nice inn along Stauton Road - Indigenous Inn that's what it's called. Located right beside the street, you couldn't miss it. We tried placing our reservation through the phone hours before our arrival in Sagada but the woman who we talked to said there was no available room and that we could still try our luck regardless.

Traveller's Inn, one of the many guest houses in Sagada

I told my travel buddy to do a random picking at any of the inns we saw down the road - the street is lined with various inns, I don't think anyone who goes to Sagada will end up sleeping out in the cold.

Indigenous Inn

We enjoyed walking down the slope that is Stauton Road, laughed at how we were both chilling literally until we spotted Indigenous Inn, its yellow facade peeking out in the distance. Turned out there were still available rooms (the woman lied but it's a good marketing ploy). The lady ushered us to the second level of the building, showed us our room which had twin beds. For 250/night per pax, it was really a steal. There are shared bathrooms with heater at the end of the hallway, we've got our own little veranda and two comfy beds covered in yellow, freshly laundered sheets.

Comfy bed

"Could have been more perfect if there was TV," my friend suggested. "You don't go to Sagada to watch TV," I retorted in a falsely vehement tone. "We'll just probably use the room for sleeping and taking a bath," I added. But that's just not true. We liked hanging out in our room, snuggling under the sheets in our own bed, sleeping the afternoon off when we could have visited a few more attractions in Sagada. We felt bad for not making the most of our time in Sagada, but what could we do? The weather was just too perfect for huddling up.

Where to Eat

Apart from the main attractions, I was excited to try the food in Sagada. I've heard and read about the variety of food choices in Sagada and that they were excellent. So I guess one of the driving forces why I chose Sagada for the Thanksgiving was the food. :D We started out by trying their karinderyas located at the basement of a building near the market. My friend chose sinigang, and I, bagnet. We found their rice interesting.

Bagnet and kangkong

For the next meals, we laid out some plans on where to eat. The goal was to try every restaurant in Sagada and leave well-fed without burning a hole in our wallet. I don't think we were very successful because most of the restaurants weren't exactly cheap. I'm not sure if we just made bad choices on a few meals we chose but there were some that really did disappoint.

Breakfast platter

Take Bana Cafe for instance where we had dinner on our first night. Their pork chop was not properly fried and tasted weird. My friend had the same issue with her daing na bangus. But they serve delightful breakfast. Sure, we were not pleased with that upsetting supper, didn't mean we wouldn't give Bana a second try. Turned out their specialty was breakfast. And their platter sure looked appetizing!

A stone throw away from Bana Cafe is Strawberry Cafe whose bacon was quite good I think I might have developed a temporary but strong affinity to it. It's just across Indigenous Inn so getting there was a cinch. It's got real strawberry plants scattered around its lawn, a hearth and fish sharshadow!

Personal favorite: bacon!

Further down the block, on the way to Sumaguing Cave is Sagada Lemon Pie House - famous for its tangy lemon pie and red chicken with overflowing sauce the color of blood.

Nice ambiance at Sagada Lemon Pie House

It's a nice, cozy place where you can eat while slumping on the shiny wooden floor. A little improvement has to be done on its small washroom which gets long queues from its customers wanting to have a wash or a pee. I didn't get to see what the interior looked like because I was like the 10th person waiting in line.

Wooden chairs and tables at Sagada Lemon Pie House

Going uphill, it's hard to miss Yoghurt House whose primary offering - yoghurt, what else? - draws customers in. I heard their baked chicken served with veggies and potatoes are really good. What a shame we didn't try it.

Yoghurt from Yoghurt House

We also didn't try Gaia Cafe because we didn't think we'd enjoy being served with food which consisted only of vegetables, especially that we had to walk a few kilometers just to get there, and walk back up to the inn again by foot. It's got a unique character to it though, looked peaceful and hidden under the canopy of towering trees. The dogs were not just very friendly.

Gaia Cafe

Things to Do
If like us, you've decided to go to Sagada but don't know what to do apart from pigging out, the tourist information center is the best place to start. They'll help you select a tour and hook you up with guides. Doesn't matter if you're alone or in groups. The tours are standardized and as long as you're not picky about who you go along with, you won't pay more than you should.

Descending in Sumaguing Cave

The first thing we did in Sagada was spelunking. It's perhaps a mainstream activity but it's never boring. The Sumaguing Cave is a fun place to explore and offers a lot of surprises. Just don't forget to wear sturdy footwear - the way down is a bit tricky and slippery.

Bomod-ok Falls

Then there's Bomod-ok Falls. Getting there involves trekking. You'll pass by a beautiful village with fog rolling in, meet locals clad in winter clothes and do some balancing act to tread along narrow trails in rice paddies.

Trek to Bomod-ok

Crossing the rice paddies

It's worth-noting that the views are breathtaking, I couldn't count how many times people in the group muttered "ang ganda" (how beautiful). I too would stop every now and marvel at the beauty of it all. I felt like I was inch closer to the heaven.

Fog rolling in

We missed witnessing the sunrise in Kiltepan because the mornings were always foggy and we were told that there was no sunrise since the past few days. We were too lazy to get up at four in the morning anyway so it goes without saying that we didn't try hard enough.

We didn't feel bad missing the hanging coffins either. We felt guilty standing up two trek buddies who we broke bread with during the Sumaguing spelunking. We told them we'd meet them right after lunch but we ended up sleeping the whole afternoon off. My excuse? Toes were sore from all the trek to Bomod-ok. Lame I know but true nonetheless. The funny part was, we were too abashed to meet them again. We didn't want confrontations! Haha.

Why Should You Go to Sagada?
Without sounding redundant, Sagada is a lovely place. There are hundreds of things to love about this town and it's no wonder why a lot of people keep coming back. If not for the state of the road and my fear of heights, I'd come back there again and again.

Rice fields in various states

Sagada effortlessly bewitches and befuddles outsiders accustomed to living their days and nights in the city. The otherness and unfamiliarity of it can hit you harder than you expect. Everything is new, high, green and blue. There are sweet surprises and daunting possibilities, exciting panoramas and deep ravines. The cool, clean air in your lungs, the purity of it, is a welcome respite and a perfect antidote to the hustle and bustle of the city where you spend most of your days. The cold can be unforgiving but you will hardly mind it. In fact, you will long for it. You welcome it with excitement, the same way you welcome summer.

Things to Love About Sagada

2013-12-08T08:47:00.003+08:00

Sagada is love. And just like love, it comes with a few sacrifices. For starters, going to Sagada takes almost 12 hours of road trip. The high roads zigzagging through mountain sides and cliffs certainly don't help especially for acrophobic. But taking risks and being brave are all part of a journey toward having a great experience and adventure.

Here are the things I love about Sagada..

1. Cold weather. The morning fog rolling in the mountain down to the villages is something you don't see every day

2. People clad in winter clothes.

3. The good-warmheartedness of the locals

4. The simplicity of life.

5. The bashfulness of kids.

6. Bomod-ok Falls

7. The Saturday Market teeming with fresh produce

8. Sumaging Cave - enchanting and deep!

9. Those towering trees which seem to dance

10.Yoghurt House. Lovely atmosphere. Good food.

11. Walking along Staunton Road until your feet hurt

12. Sagada Lemon Pie House. Great ambiance. Lemon Pie!

13. Bacon and toast at Strawberry Cafe

14. The shops

15. Indigenous Inn. Clean sheets and comfy pillows. With great front and back views.

And pretty much everything. :-)

Looking for Peace and Quiet in Caleruega

2013-11-03T14:16:00.002+08:00

I imagined Caleruega to be completely serene and peaceful - a haven of sorts for people looking for quiet. The blogs I read about the place never failed to talk about how subdued and enchanting the whole surrounding is. Although I always take everything with a grain of salt, I was simply sold hook line and sinker with the idea that it could possibly be the best place for soul searching. Besides, I was longing for a place that promises tranquility and Caleruega seemed to be the most feasible option. So I invited a few friends for a day trip in Caleruega and possibly a hot bulalo in Tagaytay on our way back. That weekend, I had a bruised ego to say the least and I was hoping that a place like Caleruega would heal whatever emotional crap I was having.

That's the problem with expectations. They inevitably burst your bubbles. I had this grand assumption that Caleruega, with its supposed lush environment replete with handsome gardens, was a perfect venue for soul searching. Unfortunately for me however, I left the place more disconnected than ever. I couldn't tell exactly why - I just didn't feel any emotional connection with Caleruega.

Even the pictures I took were uninspired. If not for the company of good friends, I would easily consider the experience borderline lame. On the other hand, it would have been a completely different experience altogether if I went there alone.

But hey, that's just me. For what its worth, Caleruega is not uninteresting. Far from it, to be honest. Its vibe and atmosphere may depend on the time of day you go there or the number of people you see. In retrospect, it's perhaps the crowd that ultimately shattered it for me. Don't get me wrong. The people were far from being rowdy or loud. It's just that I expected the place to be devoid of human beings. Thinking about it now, going there on Sunday was possibly not a good idea. The whole vicinity was teeming with people. Even the church itself was crowded.

Caleruega's close proximity to the metro is arguably one reason it becomes a favorite weekend getaway among families and friends. It's a park, retreat venue and a place for worship rolled into one. And let's not forget Tagaytay that lies too close to the place. After hearing the mass in Caleruega, one could dine at one of the various restaurants in Tagaytay with an overlooking view of Taal Lake and Volcano in the distance.

The Transfiguration Chapel

Inside the chapel. For some reason, I could hear music coming from good dreadnought guitars.

Hallway of a retreat house

Intricate staircase

Hanging wooden bridge

Colorful glass panel with an image of Christ

Kid running, having swell time under the sun

Retreat house

Garden beside the concrete pathway

Metal platform in the koi garden

Kids watching the koi fish in the pond

How to Get to Caleruega Church

Getting to Caleruega is easy and pretty straightforward. There are Nasugbu-bound buses in Buendia and Pasay. All buses that ply to Nasugbu, Batangas pass by in Evercrest Resort, which is the drop-off point to Caleruega. Tricycles parked beside the road take guests to the church. One way fare is Php20.00 and the trip back costs an additional Php5.00.

Intramuros Pasyal Sunday: A Photowalk

2013-10-22T17:31:00.001+08:00

I was on my way to Central Station, where my friend and I planned to meet, when he asked me what kind of afternoon it was. He was running late, perhaps on the fence what attire would suit best. Looking at the Manila skyline, I responded that it wasn't very gloomy - hot but not scorching (apparently not the best time to wear tyvek suits). The subtext of my response was - it's a beautiful day for a leisurely walk.

We began the walk from SM Manila down to eastern gate of Intramuros where the newly erected Bayleaf Hotel stood haughty, proud and handsome.

My friend heard a couple of girls we met by the gate comment in an undertone that we're probably tourists. What with the sunglasses and digital cameras hanging down our neck, we could fit the bill. We scoffed and snorted at the rather funny remark and followed a horse-drawn carriage clip-clopping its way to the ruins.

A group of men whistled to get our attention, offered us their green railroad cart (padyak), brandished their flyers (Sir, tour po, mura lang, marami na kayong mapupuntahan) but we politely shook our head. We couldn't tell them that we're on a walking jaunt, and that riding a padyak would defeat the purpose.

For about three hours, we walked the streets around Intramuros, shot old buildings and people and basically captured every moment we thought was interesting. We had no itinerary to speak of, we mostly roamed with no particular destination in mind. Granted, I've been to this place a couple of times before but those visits were perfunctory. And yes, back in college we toured Intramuros as part of our class activity but that's too long ago and I honestly don't remember much about it.

I was basically playing a tourist, wide-eyed and eager for surprises. I went home dead tired but rejuvenated.

Colorful wheel of a horse-drawn carriage

The Manila Bulletin Building

Newly renovated DOLE building. I honestly thought this was a hotel or a condo complex.

My friend taking a peek inside the barred wall

Mother and son on a tour

We skipped Baluarte de San Diego only because we couldn't afford the admission fee. Lame.

The old San Augustin Church

A wedding was going on that afternoon.

Right beside the church, a man was singing the blues with the kids.

There's a street teeming with shops that sold drawings, postcards and paintings

Perfumes also up for grabs

The Manila Cathedral is temporarily closed for renovation.

The Comelec Building where my friend did his OJT.

Bamboo bicycles

An open theater

Manila Skyline as seen from the walled city

Tourists and dungeons

Intramuros in twilight

Baler: Chasing Buses, Waves and Waterfalls

2013-09-08T12:53:00.001+08:00

"ARE WE THERE YET? AREN'T WE GETTING OFF?" P asked impatiently as the bus gently swerved to the left and made a graceful halt in the middle of a small terminal in Maria Aurora, a town in Aurora province, a few miles north of Manila. A couple of passengers hurriedly got off the bus, carrying their stuff - big boxes and sacks of goods, probably pasalubong for their loved ones who were happily expecting for their arrival.

It's almost five in the afternoon. We had been traveling for ten hours. The aggressive twists and bends on the road from Nueva Vizcaya to Aurora had taken its toll on us. We were already feeling queasy, not to mention tired and hungry.

Almost there...

"Nope, one more town to go before the final homestretch," I told P as if I knew this part of Aurora like the back of my hand. I too was dying to get off the bus. Truth was, I was merely guessing. An educated guess which turned out to be correct because the next town was indeed Baler.

Vans abound right in front of the terminal, but none of them seemed to be interested to go to Baler

In the town of Cabanatuan, four hours earlier, we spotted a road sign which bore Baler's distance from Nueva Ecija's most urbanized city - 143KM. I did a mental calculation of how long the trip would take while munching on my chicken joy at Jollibee. We were waiting for the bus to pass by. J reckoned it would be about four hours. It's like traveling from Dumaguete to Bacolod, he said. He was right.

A small store beside the road (somewhere in Nueva Vizcaya), selling fruits and tupig

We thought going to Baler would be a breeze (I even drafted a very detailed itinerary) but it proved to be a challenge. There's a bus that plies directly to the town of Baler but we weren't able to catch the last trip. We ended up taking an alternative route: Manila > Cabanatuan > Baler. There's an option to take a van in Cabanatuan but the scarcity of passengers prevented the drivers from hitting the road with just the three of us on board. And who could blame them?

Mountainous terrain of Aurora

"Were you able to sleep?" I asked J who was occupying a seat behind me. He shook his head. "Same here," I told him consolingly. J and P had been awake for more than 24 hours. The trip had been a game of catching buses. On a journey in which perspective could have turned things around, exhaustion got the better of us.

It was already sundown when we reached the sleepy and quiet town of Baler. Finally, there was Sabang Beach - all calm and placid.

No waves, now what?

"Where are the waves?" Hearts sinking, we asked the driver, who simply grinned awkwardly and shrugged. There was nothing we could do about it, so we surveyed the long shore to look for a place to spend the night at. After some minutes of hopping from one resort to another, we found a handsome hotel called Aliya.

Our hotel, Aliya, as seen from the beach.

"YOU'VE SEEN THE CHITO-NERI SCANDAL?" P asked J while she was fiddling with her phone and puffing a stick of cigar leisurely - blowing it off in the cool evening breeze. It was a quarter past nine - we were hanging out at a wooden bench in front of Aliya, talking about random stuff, but mostly about local showbiz. The resort's restaurant was almost empty. It's a quiet night. We just had dinner at Hungry Surfer, a nice watering hole located some hundred meters from Aliya. It had a palpable 'surf' vibe and some fantastic-tasting blue Marlin that made us completely satiated.

The restaurant teems with surfing-inspired themes, such as this surfboard

J merely grunted and took another swig of Red Horse. "It's hot, I'm taking my shirt off," said he. P let out a shriek of disgust after seeing J's bulging stomach. "It's just water," J argued, squeezing his love handles rather gently. I chortled at their banter.

P, J and I work in the same company. We're from the same department and we belong in the same team. We don't eat together when we're in the office and we barely go out. But we joke with each other a lot. One time we decided to do a weekend getaway.

This is how one should spend his weekend

It was during our usual quick break at work when the idea of spending a weekend in Baler came up. The three of us, hungry for adventure and eager to escape the daily grind, easily got on board then invited a few colleagues who might be interested to come with us. "No matter what happens, we will push through with the trip," we promised to one another. As expected, a few people backed out from the trip, but we three went on.

Three's a company

"I'm okay taking this seat. You two can share that one. I won't mind," I told them as we were choosing seats inside a Cabanatuan-bound bus in Cubao ten hours earlier. We were supposed to catch the last direct trip to Baler but it left the terminal a few minutes before our arrival. The bus drivers of Genesis helped us get to our destination by providing an alternative route.

ES Transport is always on the rescue for passengers left by the last Baler-bound trip

J considered for a moment then spotting a vacant seat across P, told us he's fine being alone too. We ended up occupying three different seats altogether. It was an odd set-up but it worked pretty well, to be honest. They planned to sleep the entire trip off anyway, and I finish a novel, so it didn't really matter.

Reading Murakami on the bus

Reading a novel when the bus stereo played Sunday music was a little disconcerting. I lost concentration so I decided to stuff the book inside my bag and took out my camera instead. After a short stop-over at a town in Nueva Ecija, the bus traversed a long and winding road with a scenery that gradually changed: swamps, vast fields, looming mountains and deep ravines. I began fidgeting in my seat - high roads easily scare me.

"I'M TAKING THIS BED," P DECLARED after seeing our room, throwing her bag on her chosen bed to make her point. The receptionist downstairs told us they've run out of triple-sharing room so she gave us a quadruple room instead at a discounted rate. J decided to get the lower bunk - it's a lot bigger than the top bunk, which I ended up occupying. Before I could even argue, P rushed to the bathroom to have her much-needed shower. J went out to look for a pair of flip flops. He realized that his basketball shoes from Zalora that he got recently weren't ideal for the beach.

I can't remember what time the lights were switched off. I instantly conked out right after a cold shower. But I recall waking from time to time.

Complimentary breakfast

"I honestly think that something would grab my legs," I told the two in the morning while we were having our complimentary breakfast (daing for me, tapa for them). They both laughed. It's a ridiculous thought, but I'd always be a superstitious guy who'd find silly meaning on weird things, like our room number: 13.

Nothing grabbed my legs though. They were fine. I was able to surf with ease, which greatly surprised me because the last time I tried this water sport, I had a hard time standing on the surfboard.

I and P riding the waves

Right after finishing breakfast, we sauntered to the beach, which was just a stone-throw from Aliya. There were no other surfers apart from us so we practically had the beach to ourselves. The surf instructors did their short, requisite demo and soon, we were on the shore riding the waves.

Our surfing instructor showing us some surfing basics

"Are the waves always like this during this time of the year?" I asked my surf instructor while resting on the surfboard face down, waiting for a good wave. He nodded and explained that the waves were just fine for beginner surfers like us. From September to February however, they can be as high as nine feet.

"Okay, sir, get ready now," he announced, after spotting a huge bump going our way. I got into position: two hands firmly planted on both sides of the board, right leg bent upward. He then gave my board a slight push, and for the nth time, I was on my own again, gliding along the wave.

Life is like the surf, so you give yourself away like the sea

Time moves too quickly when you're having fun. Before we knew it, our surfing jaunt was up. We left the shore, happy and eager for another surf.

"HOW FAR ARE WE FROM THE FALLS?" I asked our guide who was the same guy teaching us to surf an hour ago. Apart from doing surf lessons at Aliya, he also does tours around Baler using his sturdy tricycle. Since we were not doing anything and we had a few hours to spare before heading back to Manila, we decided to take his offer to visit the falls. It's just 45 minutes from here anyway, he promised. We trod over river rocks and traversed along a narrow rutted road until we reached the drop-off point. From there, we did a 20-minute trek to the falls.

Crossing this bamboo bridge was no free

"Not too far," he replied, motioning us to hurry. We would stop from time to time to take photos, and he would look at us with an apparent annoyance on his face. Before us loomed the intimidating mountain range of Sierra Madre. We could hear the chirping of birds amongst the trees and the sound of the flowing river just beside the pathway. In my head I was singing Maroon 5's 'Sunday Morning.'

Ditumabo Falls, also known as the Mother Falls, can be found in San Luis, a neighboring town in Baler. I haven't been to many a falls so it's such a delight to see it cascade forcefully down the basin, which served as the swimming area. Five minutes after taking a plunge in its cool pool, I swam back shivering. I found the water was extremely cold.

"You guys want to do a side-trip at Balete Park?" our guide offered. We were winding our way back through the same path, trudging over rivulets. The trek back was surprisingly short. "It's just a town away," he added, after seeing the look of worry on our faces. We were planning to catch the trip to Manila at 2pm.

Dwarfed by the giant Banyan tree

The trip to the town of Quirino took a little over 20 minutes. By the time the trike screeched to a halt in front of the huge, century old Banyan tree, our clothes had already dried up. We gawked at the massive tree whose roots have sprung up to its trunk over time, leaving its roots a labyrinth of interconnecting passages. The superstitious in me had to utter a silent prayer to the deities that might still be residing in the tree.

J decided to climb up the roots and emerged through an opening several feet high a few minutes later. Two local boys appeared out of nowhere and joined him, showing off their Spider-Man stunts by effortlessly traipsing down the roots.

"We really should get going," I told P and J, who were sipping buko juice sold at a table near the tree. We couldn't afford to miss the bus again. I was a buzz-kill and I hated myself for it but my insistence had saved us a huge deal of trouble. We secured the last three seats of the last bus trip to Manila. Our arrival couldn't have been more perfect - barely a minute after paying our tickets, a couple who was also bound for Manila inquired about the availability of tickets.

They didn't look so sad after being told that the tickets were sold-out. They boarded the same tricycle that brought them to the terminal and went back - to Sabang, I presumed, where the sun, waves and sand were waiting for their return. Silently, I regretted getting the last three tickets.

Movies to Fuel Your Wanderlust

2013-08-23T19:49:00.002+08:00

If these films didn't make you feel inspired to hit the road, I'm not sure what would.

1. Into the Wild [2007]
Right after graduating from college, a young man (Emile Hirsch) decides to leave everything behind and heads to Alaska where he lives in isolation.

Source: Google Images

Favorite scene:

2. Motorcycle Diaries [2004]

Based on Che Guevarra's memoir, the film chronicles the adventures of two young men (Gael Garcia Bernal and Rodrigo de la Serna) who embark on an expedition, initially by motorcycle, across South America. Shortly after the film's release, tour operators in the region featured in the movie received tons of inquiries, with some of them even offering Che Guevara-themed trips, where travelers could "follow in the footsteps of the revolutionary icon."

3. On the Road [2012]
Adapted from the novel of the same name by Jack Kerouac, On the Road is more than just a road trip - ultimately, it's a tale about youthful searching, yearning and striving for experience.

4. Y Tu Mama Tambien [2001]
A coming-of-age story about two affluent teenage boys who go on a road trip with a woman in her late 20s, the film is set against the backdrop of the political and economic realities of present-day Mexico. (The boys have raging hormones you'd think they never run out of sildenafil 100 mg.)

source: tumblr

5. The Beach [2000]
An American college student (Leonardo de Caprio) finds a secret beach in Thailand. Towards the end of the film, he delivers a monologue that easily captures what the whole adventure is all about.
"Of course you could never forget what we have done, but we adapt. We carry on. And me? I still believe in paradise. But now at least I'll know it's not some place you can look for because it's not where you go, it's how you feel for a moment in your life when you're a part of something. And if you find that moment.....it lasts forever."

6. 127 Hours [2010]
A biographical survival drama film, 127 Hours stars James Franco as real-life canyoneer Aron Ralston, who became trapped by a boulder in an isolated slot canyon in Blue John Canyon, Utah, in April 2003.

7. Thelma & Louise [1991]
A plain housewife (Gene Davis) and a waitress (Susan Sarandon) go on a weekend trip, shoot a rapist and take off in a '66 Thunderbird across Arkansas.

Favorite scene:

Source: Tumblr

8. 'Before' Movies
Romance that happens in the most romantic places.
Before Sunrise [1995]: Vienna

Before Sunset [2004]: Paris

Before Midnight[2003]: Greece

Anything to add on the list? Feel free to leave it on the comment box below.

El Nido Revisited: Memories of Blue Summer (Tour C)

2013-07-12T09:30:00.003+08:00

I CLOSED MY EYES AND CAUGHT the smell of summer wafting through the air. A May breeze, gentle and warm, swelling up like a piece of wild fruit bursting with colors, its tiny seeds exploding with aroma. It's a perfectly beautiful Friday afternoon in El Nido - the light of the sun hammered down to its heart's content.

Sitting at the edge of the beach, Bong (our tour guide) and I looked across the water toward the gigantic karst walls surrounding this small haven called Hidden Beach. The summer breeze stirred the leaves of shrubs and trees behind us, rustling faintly and raising small ripples on the surface of the shallow waters, ebbing ever so slowly like time.

Before us were foreign tourists goofing in the water, having a swell time. Some of them were venturing out the rocky part of the beach, taking pictures of themselves every now and then. Their skin, sun-tanned and lathered with sunblock, glistened in the sun.

"Are you with them, sir?" Bong asked me in Filipino, his voice sounded beat and tired.

I shook my head. We heard the girls who had just emerged from the rocks shriek.

"You from Manila, sir?" He asked again. I nodded. Eyes squinting, he stared out at the ocean as if he's able to see the skyscrapers of Manila out beyond the horizon.

"You originally from here?" My turn to ask.

"No, sir. My family's from Masbate. We transferred here just a year ago." The indifference in his voice was palpable. He stopped mid-way and rested his head on a random tree trunk lying on the sand. He became silent for a while, his mind wandering to some distant region he himself could only go to.

"Does tour guiding pay ok?" I asked again, trying hard to sound unobtrusive. He simply nodded. The conversation ended a natural death. I got up and walked lazily toward the left side of the beach, away from Bong and the foreign tourists. The afternoon sunlight cast curious shadows on the karst walls.

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER, AT AROUND THREE in the morning, I was thrown in the middle of a sketchy-looking alley, fiddling with my phone apprehensively while looking around for any sign of life. An eerily quiet neighborhood around me. Dogs that ignored my presence. Only the far-off sound of rumbling tricycles could be heard. No matter, I told myself reassuringly, I am in El Nido.

"Dyan 'yung Art Cafe," the trike driver told me before speeding off, leaving me disheveled, a bit confused and half-scared. The instructions from the owner of the inn were clear: take a trike and tell the driver to drop you off in front of Art Cafe. The inn is situated nearby. I'll be sending someone to fetch you.

Should be a cinch. Only problem was the drivers back at the terminal were unfamiliar with the inn. "Northern Inn po," I told the third driver who, like the previous two I asked, looked confused. He shook his head and moved on to the next potential passenger. A feeling of desperation started
creeping in and before it took hold of my patience, I sent a text message to the inn owner, against my judgement, to let her know that I had just arrived in El Nido. She must have been expecting my message because it didn't take a minute before I received a response.

With the help of pale yellow lights from lamp posts, I looked for Art Cafe among the signage across the street. Nada. Taking a second look at the instructions on my phone, I realized that I was on the wrong side of the block. I needed to walk past a dark pathway leading to Art Cafe. With a heavy backpack straining my shoulders, I snaked my way through a dim-lit alley, emerging in a one-way street that's still devoid of people - save for a lone dog which regarded me with indifference. I sat next to the sleeping creature and waited for the inn owner.

Several hours later, I would eat alone at Art Cafe. That late at night however the entire place was closed, the bar shuttered and the small store walled by glass window was a completely dark space.

A young man, who introduced himself as Richard, appeared a few minutes later and led me to the inn tucked in the middle of a residential area just a few meters from the shore. After showing me the room upstairs, he handed me the key and traipsed down back to his nocturnal lair. He did all this in
perfunctory manner. The room had two queen size beds, too spacious for one person. Exhausted from the 6-hour bus trip from Puerto Princesa and ignoring the insistent stomach pain, I threw myself on a bed near the A/C. Sleep didn't come easily as I expected it to be.

IN THE MORNING, I WALKED DOWN the beach and had breakfast at Og's where I saw a group of men having coffee while engaged in what looked like a subdued conversation.

"Kids," a balding man occupying a table outside the restaurant seemed to be saying to his sons, "This is how we should spend our time together - on a beautiful place like El Nido, we sleep well, eat good food and swim in the sea all day." They must have been discussing the weather for all I know or the wild party they had last night but for a bored guy like me, making up stories seemed like a good way to kill time.

"Inuuna mo kasi ang libog mo," I heard a crew of Og's say to his pal. They were having breakfast at a small table near the kitchen, never minding that someone could hear them loud and clear. A jeering soon erupted followed by a hearty fit of laughter. The arrival of a foreigner couple prompted one crew to leave the table and assist the guests, dispersing the meeting. I caught a female crew busy cleaning the floor threw furtive glances at his workmates. Perhaps to tell them they're being inappropriate. She smiled awkwardly at me when she saw me watching her.

It's okay to be inappropriate. It's okay to have fun. I smiled back at her then took a pill for my tummy problem. The doctor said I needed to take it 30 minutes before breakfast.

At seven in the morning, guests - mostly foreigners - began to trickle down at the restaurant to have breakfast. Tables and chairs have been set up outside. Since I'm hardly a fan of al fresco dining, I chose a table inside with a good view of Bacuit Bay. Tours don't start until 9AM so I still had ample time to finish my meal - strips of bacon, two eggs, a slice of pineapple and some bread.

Most items featured on the menu were quite expensive, especially for a budget traveler like me. There were cheap karinderyas at the back, but they didn't offer a view of the bay, which is exactly what restaurants like Og's provide - at an additional cost, of course. I left Og's without finishing
my breakfast.

"YOU KNOW, AFTER SEEING ALL these beautiful beaches and islands, it's hard to go back to your own beach," I heard an Israeli woman say as we're leaving Matinloc Shrine.

She was telling the group her views about El Nido. They were talking about the countries and places they've recently gone to. She, her friend and a group of American and European guys. In this tour, I was a wallflower - I took in everything they said but I barely joined in the conversation.

Matinloc Shrine was the second destination off Tour C, after Helicopter Island. It's a peculiar site with an abandoned building and a limestone cliff which offers an aerial view of nearby islands.

The confluence of karst formation, sea and sky was an overwhelming sight to behold, leaving me quite speechless. Seeing a beautiful scenery as such was my definition of sheer happiness.

"Halong Bay is powerful but El Nido is..." She said, struggling with the right word to say, so she turned to her companion for help but to no avail. "El Nido is just different," she managed to say after some fumbling.

The boys nodded. Yeah. Yeah. One of them glanced at her chest rather fleetingly.

I watched Matinloc Shrine get smaller as we moved away. Boats began to flock its shore, tourists perched above the limestone cliff, boat men scurried toward the old rubble carrying baskets and chairs.

It's 12 in the afternoon and I heard my stomach grumble. Our guide announced we're having lunch in Talisay, a small cove near Matinloc Shrine littered by tiny jellyfish. As soon as we jumped off the boat, we caught the aroma of grilled fish wafting in the air. It made my stomach growl. A group of island hoppers was taking their lunch.

Lunch was one of the things I loved in the tour. There's something in the sea that makes one's appetite ravenous. Perhaps it's because boat guides prepare the food a tad too long that by the time it's ready to dig in, guests are extremely famished.

While the boys swam to the other side of the cove, I joined the Canadian couple snorkel in the deeper part of the beach where the water was noticeably blue, like their eyes. But they drifted farther until I was left on my own again.

When I went to El Nido the first time, I was alone too. But I never quite felt alone that time because I met a cool group of people who I was able to bond with. This time was different. I couldn't seem to connect with my tour mates. The interaction was limited to small talks and fleeting eye contact. The only thing we shared was the collective admiration for each island we visited.

This is the kind of scene that I can't feel I'm completely part of. A disconnect somewhere. A void in the middle. No matter how much I tried becoming one with nature, there didn't seem to be an organic connection between me and everything. A translucent barrier that's hard to traverse. I'm a contrived addition to all of this.

Until that peculiar moment when I had a surreal encounter with a school of fish.

We had just finished lunch. Feeling all full and bloated, I decide to take a swim in the shallow part of the beach but I ended up immobilized and transfixed at a spot near our boat, surrounded by various fish which swam around me. I didn't have any food to offer so I assumed that they would eventually leave, but they didn't. For a few minutes, they stayed right there. I felt every hair in my body stand up. It's an unusually wonderful moment that I'll never quite forget.

That and the quiet conversation I had with Bong.

Tour C is composed of Helicopter Island, Matinloc Shrine, Secret Beach and Hidden Beach.

Star-Filled Sky Over Burot Beach

2013-07-03T10:35:00.002+08:00

With arms and legs flapping against the sand, an act reminiscent of that peculiar scene in Stephen Chbosky's film adaptation of "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" which involved Charlie getting high while helplessly lying on the ground covered with snow, M blurted out a quintessential question I've been meaning to ask - "Have you ever dreamed about doing this everyday? This, spending all day and night on the beach, practically doing nothing but getting paid?"

M wasn't high. A bit delirious maybe, but definitely not drugged. He's a quirky human being, a modern day Alexander Supertramp whose spontaneity can knock the wind out of you. "Let's go to Batangas," he said over a text message on a Sunday morning. "I've no phone. Let's meet at Metro Point in Rotonda."

On a Sunday morning with an overcast sky, our Calatagan adventure began.

Yeah, I dream about doing nothing like lounging on the beach but getting paid. I told M. Please let me do this everyday, I said to a falling star, which streaked across a cloudless sky. The sky over Burot was blanketed by millions of stars - flickering and glimmering - perpetual canvass of wonder. They stayed with us the whole night. Them stars - important reminders of life's simple pleasures, having a quiet time like this, among other things. On a beach like Burot.

Noah and the Whale's "Shape of my Heart" was playing on M's tablet carelessly placed over a Bruno Mars' hat. The waves gently lapped on the shore, the sea breeze kissing our skin. A random idea crossed my mind - I'd like to save on music man guitar.

"At some point, all this traveling can get pointless so you tend to stop and focus on more important things - like building a house or something," M said a few hours back when we were busy building a bonfire at some rocky beach, which was still part of Burot but hidden by a small cove. Our campfire was composed poorly of random woods and dry thorny vines we had gathered from a thin thicket of shrubs nearby. I almost had my eyes poked by those thorny, pesky plants.

Yeah, maybe. But I don't want to stop. Not yet.

Spending the night on Burot wasn't originally part of the plan but M was a fan of unplanned trips and spontaneity. "You brought a towel with you?" he asked en route to Calatagan aboard a commuter van.

No, but I have a sarong. I bought the sarong at a shop in Puerto Princesa and I use it on weekdays at work as a shield against the artificial cold blasting off from the A/C. That night, I used it as a blanket. For a change.

I splayed the sarong albeit carefully next to his towel already spread on the pebbly ground. "The beach isn't spectacular," M warned me beforehand. "It's nice though, and there aren't a lot of tourists. I spent the night alone there once. Very wet night, but it was fun," he said.

That afternoon, the sky barely showed any hint of rain - a total contrast from his last experience on the same beach. The typhoon had finally left, it seemed.

Aren't we renting a tent? I asked M as he went about cleaning the space we occupied, kicking twigs and cans that littered the beach. "No," he said, determined. "Sleeping under the stars is more fun."

Here? I asked again, the incredulity (or was it shock) in my voice was hard to miss. There was no shade there. We were too close to the sea.

"I used to fear the sea when I was young," M said the morning after. "I felt as if the sea was going to swallow me."

The world seemed big when we were young, I said the night before.

We were talking about past lives and deja vu. He shared stories about his friends. I talked about the universe. We talked about everything under the stars while downing a bottle of Red Horse. My mind was muddled with ideas as countless as those stars overhead.

They're dead, you know, those stars, I said, matter-of-factly, as if he never knew it. M knows a lot of things. He hides some of the things he knows, sometimes he tells them as a fiction, sometimes he doesn't share them at all.

Do we have salt? We had one tilapia, two pieces of small squid and a couple of shrimps we bought from the market on the way to Burot, but we didn't have salt. We didn't think we'd be needing them. But then again, we didn't think we'd be spending the night on Burot either.

"You don't need salt when you have the sea," replied he, snatching the plastic bag that contained our dinner and washed them with seawater. "My goodness, how will you ever survive in the wilderness?" he joked while chopping an onion he found earlier on the beach. "So, this is how you chop an onion," he glanced at a camera that didn't exist, suppressing a grin. He pretended to be Erwan Huessef having his own cooking show. On a beach, with the setting sun in the background.

I laughed beside myself then joined in his charade. You should grill it under a low fire to achieve that tenderness.

When the people supervising Pulo Island (a mangrove conservation area in Calatagan) told us they're charging P1000 pesos for visiting the mangroves, we almost laughed hard.

"We only need to take a couple of shots," M argued, sounding all too polite. Doing a side-trip at Pulo before heading to Burot was his idea.

"Even so," the woman told us, showing us a piece of paper that had their rates. 250 for kayaking. Another 250 for snorkeling. It's too much to take. We had no money.

"We're just students doing a thesis," M lied, hoping they'd give us huge discount.

We will not snorkel or rent kayaks. We just want to see the place, I helped M get that discount but I didn't lie.

"We can't afford it, we have no money. We're just students," M emphasized.

"Doing thesis is really expensive," the woman's colleague said. "I should know, because my son is also doing his thesis in La Salle."

I fiddled with my camera and stifled a snort. I felt bad for lying but M was determined to play the 'we-are-students-and-poor' card which eventually got us that huge discount. From a whooping one thousand pesos, they lowered their price to P150 each. Still a bit expensive but way better than the original rate.

"Even if I had enough money, I wouldn't pay P1000 to see their mangroves." Long after we left "Pulo," we still talked about the ridiculous charge. "It's not even spectacular to begin with."

And it doesn't come with lunch, I agreed. And parking fee was at P50. Their rates were screaming desperation.

Even our driver, a kind local named Kuya Dada, was surprised to know that we were charged that much. He said he'd bring it up to his wife who worked at the municipal office. Kuya Dada didn't charge very much. He only asked P200, which was cheap considering the condition of the rutted road to Burot.

The tables with benches in Burot were priced P250.00. But since we're trying to be cheapskates, we walked past them, ignoring the barking dogs. A group of people, possibly friends or relatives of the caretaker, regarded us with curious stare. There wasn't any visitor on the beach that day.

Their only visitors that night were two boys, pretending to be college students, listening to Noah and the Whale, courageous enough to camp without tent at the far end of the beach but ended up buying a torch and transferred to the main beach front at around 9 in the evening.

The dogs, lots of them, barked at us as we made our way to the small store to buy a gasera and a large bottle of Red Horse (Php80). At three in the morning, two of those dogs were already friends with us. They lounged on the sand close to the bamboo raft lying under the big Talisay tree, where I and M tried to sleep. Moments after the break of dawn, we baptized them with new names. The white one with dark spots we called Pulgas and the black one, Egoy. They were subsequently joined by a new recruit we called Tagpi.

"There's no use pretending to be asleep," M announced after getting up. He snatched his camera in whisk and tried for the nth time shooting the star-filled sky. The waning moon had just appeared. I covered my ears with my hands but those pesky mosquitoes were rather persistent in keeping us awake. We were guardians of the beach. Guardians don't sleep.

With all efforts in trying to sleep gone to waste, we decided to get up at five in the morning and ventured the eastern part of the beach. Pulgas and Egoy guiding our way, leading us to an abandoned ship, down to a fishing village where boats had just moored after a night's catch. It was a beautiful morning.

We went back to the beach and aimed our lenses at some random things.

And it was time to leave. "Not after a swim," M said, determined as usual. Carrying our camera and a few buns we bought from the store, we trailed back to the beach where we initially camped. The sorry-looking bonfire was still there, unlit.

After having breakfast near the rocks, M jumped right into the sea, only to be running back a few moments later. "There's snake in the sea!" he screamed. He also complained about the same snake yesterday but since I had no personal encounter with the creature, I had a hard time believing its existence until it finally appeared at the main beach (M saw it again for the third time).

"I told you so!" M screamed, triumphant but scared all the same. The snake was white with black stripes around its body. Could be poisonous. I'm glad M has a knack for spotting snakes.

I've often dreamed about spending all day on a beach, doing nothing but getting paid. But it's just a dream and just like most dreams, this one is hard to come true. Spending a night on Burot was as close as I could get in achieving that dream.

*M is Maynard who blogs at www.peacefultheworldlaysmedown.com

Burot Beach is found in Calatagan, Batangas - a 4-hour drive from Manila. There are public vans near MetroPoint in Pasay.

Entrance fee at Burot is P130.00 per person. Tents are at 300.00. You can bring your own tent.

You can contact Kuya Dada at 09303991595 for trike services.

A sidetrip at Pulo can be done. Entrance fee = 150.00. Pretend you're a student.

Up, Up and Away: Parasailing in Boracay

2013-06-16T14:14:00.002+08:00

"Why would you be scared of something that's completely safe?" I challenged a colleague who was shrieking with excitement when we were discussing about possible activities we'd be doing in Boracay. Parasailing was one of the top choices. The conversation happened in January, back when we were planning a summer getaway.

"Ehhhhh, we'll be extremely high up. Can you imagine looking down when you're several feet up? What if the line snaps? Those hungry sharks will be feasting on us!" she retorted, in a ridiculously exaggerated tone that got us all cracking up.

I told her Boracay's too mainstream so we went for El Nido instead. The plan to parasail never pushed through. Not with her anyway. I was able to do parasailing with a different set of friends last April on the last leg of our Romblon Backpacking Trip. Since Boracay lies very close to Tablas we reckoned it'd be a good idea to swing by at the island before going back to Manila.

What is Parasailing?

Parasailing, according to our online friend/consultant Wikipedia, is also known as parascending, or "parakiting." It is a recreational kiting activity in which a person is towed behind a vehicle (usually a boat) while attached to a specially designed canopy wing akin to a parachute (can be Superman-inspired but the feeling of being invincible is not guaranteed.)

The kite is normally manned [not always by robotic, tired guides] and anchored to boat. There's a harness which attaches and connects the rider to the parasail, which is safely (should be!) connected by a long tow rope. The boat can drive off or stay afloat unmoving. Parasailing should not be confused with the sport of paragliding.

Is it Safe?

For someone who's innately scared of heights, it's a bit surprising to find myself unafraid of parasailing. Okay, well, parasailing is relatively easy and safe, but when you're up there, really high up there, like 50 storey-high up there, it can be quite disconcerting. The height made me queasy. It was only then that I finally understood why my colleague was brimming with apprehension and excitement in the mere mention of parasailing.

"Kung gusto niyo na bumaba, senyas lang kayo ng ganito, (If you want to come down, just do this)" one of parasailing guides advised us, me and Melvin, two excited boys who were eager to fly. The guide made a circular motion with his right hand.

[Safety instructions may sound boring but they're essential]

I pretended that I was paying attention, but I really wasn't. We'll be just 15 minutes tops up, why would I want to get down without finishing my turn? After making sure that we're safely strapped to the colorful and massive parachute hovering above our head, they started to hoist us slowly.

The girls who were having a party on the speedboat shrieked and waved at us. They were too cool to let us have a go first. With every DSLR and point-and-shoot camera pointed at us, we waved back and screamed. We did the OK sign a few times while grinning from ear to ear and we screamed some more.

Is it Fun?

Up there, looking down and seeing the expansive view of the sea, I was consumed with an intense feeling of exhilaration and (I didn't quite expect this) fear. The fear crept into my system too sudden and unannounced. It happened when I realized that we were several feet up in the air. I held on to the strap and wondered out loud if there ever was an accident involving parasail air pumps malfunction or something. (Apparently, there was but I didn't know this at the time). My companion answered me with a non-committal grunt.

I quit looking down and diverted my attention to the island of Boracay which looked too small and so far away. With only the wind gushing in our ears and the sound of the parachute flapping, everything seemed muted. We couldn't hear the loud music booming from the boat's stereo hundreds of feet below. We were flying adrift and had no control over the parachute.

If the tow rope, which looked thin, snapped, we'd be goners.

Why Should You Try It?

Parasailing in Boracay can be overrated but it's fun, believe me [although may not be suitable for the acrophobics out there]. And it's not very expensive (700 per person, discounted rate). I think there's just one company that runs the parasailing business in Boracay and you can easily spot their office in Station 1. Crew Diamond, that's the name. (Contact number: 0927-5935909)

Additional perks: you get to ride on a speedboat. You can have a little party while you wait for your turn.

You'll have the best, unobstructed view of the sunset.

Small Love for Boracay

2013-06-09T14:48:00.001+08:00

The sea is heaving. The waves, restless and angry, threaten to upturn our outrigger boat manned by two young Hambil locals. The boat creaks as it bobs over a deep blue bayou that stretches out to the treacherous Tablas Strait in the west. For nearly about an hour, my heart is in my throat.

Sailing to Boracay from Tablas, Romblon when the waves are rough can be a scary ordeal. The sea that separates both islands tends to get tumultuous even during summer months. They say there's a powerful current that flows from Sibuyan in the east all the way to Palawan in the west. Even local fishermen who knew these waters like the back of their hands were not spared from its menace. I remember a friend who grew up in Carabao Island telling me stories about fishing boats being washed away by these tricky waves - the hapless fishermen were found miles away in the south, near the waters of Mindoro and even as far as Palawan.

Just a month ago, my friend's parents and a number of local passengers were caught up in some sort of sea storm when the waves got a bit rougher than usual on their way to Boracay. Coast guards had been summoned because the boat, whose engine had to be stopped, bobbed precariously somewhere in the middle of Boracay and Carabao Island.

And how can I forget my sister's tale about their tragic accident several years ago when she and her friends decided to go to Boracay aboard an average-size fishing boat that could barely fit more than ten people. They were young and free-spirited; adventurous and careless. As they were sailing past Agoho, a big wave tossed their boat and flipped it over, throwing them and their things away into the open sea. They had no idea what had just happened, and for around 6 hours,they found themselves clinging to the upturned boat, which was relentlessly pounded by big waves. A number of sharks were lurking nearby.

A passing cargo ship spotted them a few hours before dusk.

[Less crowded Puka Beach]

The current near the waters of Boracay feels like an organized chaos. The waves look sinister and parlous, big and raging. And yet they seem to dance - they move with graceful rhythm, pushing our boat forward. When I see the outline of Puka Beach in the near distance, its white shore glistening under the intense heat of the sun, I heave a sigh of relief. The worst is over. Boracay, here I come, again.

----

It was 2002 when I first set foot in Boracay. I was a freshman student in college - young, penniless but happy. My high school friend, Ayen, who was also spending her Christmas break in Tablas wanted to visit her relatives in Boracay. She tagged some friends along. I didn't learn about her exciting plan until I went to town and found some of my guy classmates preparing to leave. The fact that I wasn't invited for their little excursion was painful, but I didn't have time to wallow. I headed back to the house, packed a few clothes and bade my family goodbye.

With a measly cash in hand, around Php700.00, I survived a 3-day trip in Boracay. It was a money well-spent and the spontaneous getaway was as memorable as I expected it to be. I remember the sand to be extremely fine and white; and the water refreshingly cool. The crowd back then wasn't as overwhelming as it is today. There weren't many establishments lining the white long beach either.

Back then, boats from Caticlan and Romblon were still allowed to dock in front of Station 3. Strong muscled men would carry passengers who didn't want to get wet on their broad shoulders. I don't remember seeing a lot of boats or paraws. The beach wasn't littered with them.

We stayed at my friend's relative's house in Manok-Manok and beached in Station 1 from early morning till dusk. It didn't matter that we couldn't book any cottage near the beach, we simply left our towels and extra shirt on a random boat moored on the sand not far from we were swimming. We couldn't even afford a pack of bread sold in one of the stands that lined the shore.

It was only a decade ago but it feels like a lifetime. So much has changed since then.When I went to Boracay last year, my view about the island paradise has completely changed. It's a paradise lost.

----

"Sa Station 1 ron lang ta madunggo," one of the boat men tells me. The plan is to sail past Puka Beach and past handsome hotels and bungalows sitting on cliffs, then dock in front of Station 1. Before I can point out the crimp in the plan, the boat man quickly explains that we'll act as if we just came from an island hopping tour. We will get down the boat without our stuff and walk normally to the shore.

"Ayos yan, Kuya" I say to him approvingly.

Boats coming from Tablas are not allowed to wharf in Station 1, or Stations 2 and 3 for that matter. But since ours is the size of a regular boat used for island hopping, we are able to get around the rule. Apart from a few collective stare from random beach combers, no one seems to notice our arrival.

When I notice the water plagued with green filamentous algae, I am reminded yet again why I have small love for Boracay.

12 Reasons to Visit Sibuyan

2013-06-03T18:02:00.000+08:00

Traveling to Sibuyan, Romblon requires patience, time and long ferry ride. It's physically taxing but it's worth it.

1. They have an island called Cresta de Gallo that's uninhabited and beautiful, with white-sand beach and rich marine life.

2. They have lots of falls scattered around the island. It will probably take you a few days before you can visit all of them.

[Dagubdub Falls in the town of Espana is just one of the many falls in Sibuyan]

3. Cantingas River which is reputed to be the country's cleanest can be found in San Fernando, Sibuyan. It never dries up even in the hottest month of the year. It's safe to drink too.

4. Sibuyan is dubbed as the 'Galapagos of Asia' because it has remained in isolation from the rest of the world since its formation. Various unique fauna and flora can be found in its mountains.

[The island of Sibuyan as seen from afar]

5. Toploading - both on trikes and jeepneys - is completely legal.

[Photo credit: Marj Garra of LayOverToLife]

6. Mt. Guiting-guiting, famous for its jagged peak, can be found in Sibuyan.

7. Their shores are ideal for sunset watching.

[Sunset watching in Azagra]

8. For only 50 pesos, you can jump off from a 40-feet ledge down the river.

9. You can have the road to yourself because vehicles hardly pass by.

[Photo credit: Marj Garra of LayOverToLife]

10. Locals are friendly and hospitable.

11. They practice responsible tourism - no concrete cottages near the falls and trails don't have concrete stairs either.

12. Hardly any tourists so you can have the beach to yourself.

Are you sold, hook line and sinker? Add Sibuyan to your bucket list now.

How Well Filipinos Know About Philippine Geography

2013-06-03T11:00:00.001+08:00

When I think about Philippine geography - there are two things that come to mind. One is the unique map of our archipelago, and the other is Yoyoy Villame's Philippine Geography song. The melody is a little funny but its lyrics offer a primer on geography. It's probably too kitschy for your taste so you hardly recognize the song. Well, it goes something like this. From the north Batanes, Aparri, Ilocos Sur, Ilocos Norte, Isabela, Cagayan Valley, Mountain Province, La Union, Baguio City. Pretty straight-forward right? But even the composer got a few things wrong.

Then down to Visayan shore/ The most tamis sugar, coconut and corn/ Iloilo, Capiz, Aklan, Antique
Palawan, Negros, Bacolod City or Dumaguete.

Clearly, Palawan isn't in the Visayas region. Oh you thought all along that it's part of Visayas? Well, time to brush up your knowledge on Philippine geography, don't you think? But don't worry, you are not alone. Yoyoy Villame isn't the only one who's not perfect when it comes to Philippine geography. Unless you have studied and memorized each nook and crany of our country, you're forgiven if you don't have any idea where Romblon is or if you mistake Iloilo for Ilocos.

But you are not forgiven for judging people and stereotyping places to the quick.

Here are some anecdotes - more like bloopers - on failed Philippine geography. (Gotten from a post in an FB group called 'Overheard in UP').

Chill and learn a thing or two.

Yeah, what a hoot! But when you're the one being asked with those silly questions, it's not too funny anymore. :-)

Carabao Island: Of Bumpy Boat Ride, Unspoiled Beach and Friendly Locals

2013-05-28T00:01:00.001+08:00

It was a lovely day. The sun's out. The sky's bright and clear. The sea was calm. What could possibly go wrong?

The boat ride from Sta. Fe in Tablas to Carabao Island doesn't take more than an hour. This I know too well because I've taken the same trip a year ago when I went to San Jose with a friend. The only difference was we took a passenger pump boat which was way bigger than we had this time. But otherwise, it was the same route and it was also summer.

[Leaving Sta. Fe]

Bumpy Boat Ride

[San Jose is clearly visible from Sta. Fe, the drop-off point to the island from Tablas]

Summer months generally mean calmer seas, ergo smooth boat ride. Well, to be fair the first half of the trip was relatively worry-free. I was actually thinking about removing the old and stuffy life vest that our boat guides asked us to don. As we were fast approaching San Jose, the waves became bigger and nastier. By this time, we were all pretty much absorbed in our own reveries so when the water came splashing we were kind of unnerved and slightly alarmed.

[A friend in a pensive mode]

This doesn't seem right, I thought to myself, heart beat racing. In the distance, the part where the boat was heading to, I could see the waves heaving. When I glanced at my friends, they looked rather unperturbed. Yeah, well, I'm a worry-wart. I safely tucked my camera inside my bag and pretended to look okay.

The closer we got to the shore of Said Beach, the nastier the waves had become. This time, the looks on my friends' face were unmistakable - it's the look of fear that I myself had been trying to hide. Lol. Since the boat didn't seem like it was going to dock anytime soon, I asked the boat guys how far we were from the wharf. They pointed the white sand visible in the distance. That we were actually a few meters from the shore offered me a false sense of comfort.

[This is how our boat would look like from afar, struggling]

[Port of Said at the far end of the beach]

Needless to say, it was a long and intense ride so it was such a relief when the boat had finally docked, albeit with great difficulty, near Said Beach.

Unspoiled Beach, Tourist-Free

Swinging by at Carabao Island was part the itinerary for Day 5 of our Romblon Backpacking Trip. Carabao Island was our second to the last stop, Boracay being the last destination. We decided to spend at least an hour or two in the beach because we needed to hurdle another boat ride to Boracay. I didn't want to think about the impending trip yet. I was sure it was going to be more intense.
After leaving our stuff inside the boat's safety compartment, we walked along the white sand beach of Said towards a section that had coconut trees grew and finer sand.

Save for a few kids who frolicked in the waves, there weren't other beach combers in the beach. Just like last time. This is what I liked most about the beaches in Carabao Island, you can have them to yourself.

There aren't cottages or huts in Said so we made do of the shade that a coconut tree jutting out to the sea provided. It didn't only provide shade from the sun, it also offered a perfect backdrop for photo-ops.

[Doing all sorts of poses we could think of]

I wanted to climb the tree to have a photo taken but a friend who was as eager as I was beat me to it. We ended up doing a trio shot. But I really wanted to have a solo shot so I asked the boys to come down for a moment. They seemed cool about it, I think they were, until they ran towards the water - perhaps to cool their heads off? Lol.

[Alone at last]

It was high tide when I last swam on this beach, and the water had almost reached the road, preventing me to see the shore. This time I had a better view of the shoreline. The sand was still as smooth and fine as I remembered it. It didn't matter that the waves were big. Swimming in Said was simply a delightful experience.

Friendly Locals, Lucky Kids

The boat men, there were two of them, asked us if they could take their lunch. They would be back in an hour. It was around 10:30AM when they left. After an hour, they arrived in the beach to find us waiting under the shade of palm trees near a neighborhood where a group of men was playing a pool game.

While waiting for the boat men, we talked to some local kids who were busy eating green mangoes. They giggled and teased each other. Such lucky kids to have a beautiful beach like Said.

Some of our peers looked for a store that sold refreshment. They were able to find mais con yelo. And a monkey teetered to a tree.

We all went near the boat when the boat men arrived but we didn't hop on board yet because they still had to remove the water stuck inside the boat. We were worried that our stuff got wet. Unfortunately, everything was dry.

We said goodbye to Carabao Island a few minutes before 12. As expected, the ride to Boracay was insane. But that's for the next blog post.

Interested to go to Carabao Island? Here's a travel guide.

Looc Fish Sanctuary Revisited

2013-05-27T13:24:00.003+08:00

After 12 months, I was back again in Looc Fish Sanctuary. This time with colleagues from Manila. Except for a few interesting species of fish that lurked under the floating raft and the view of stranded ship in the distance, nothing much has changed.

No, we can't make it. Yes, we can.

I was chanting these lines in my head on our way to Looc aboard a knotty motorcycle. Our driver understood how crucial it was for us to reach Looc before 4:30PM and so he went full throttle but his motorcycle could only do so much. Apparently, it wasn't meant for long-distance travel. He changed the vehicle into a more road-fit one, allowing us to keep up with the rest of the team whose motorcycles were kilometers ahead of us. Err - no, that wasn't exactly the case. They actually pulled over and waited for us to make sure we were all right. Then they let us go first, and after a few seconds we were at the tail end again.

With the rate we were going, I didn't think that we could reach Looc before the sanctuary closed for the day. But somehow we did. We arrived in town a few minutes past four. I told my travel mates to hurry since the sanctuary was about to close. Chop, chop, people! After throwing our stuff carelessly in a vacant room at Angelique Inn, we sprinted towards the port. The guys, who are called BayWatchers (watchers of the sanctuary), at the registration office told us we almost didn't make it. They were closing much earlier that day because there was an advice from their boss. I heaved a sigh of relief.

After paying 100 pesos (entrance fee), a Baywatch officer ushered us to a boat at the far end of the port. It's a big boat, one that can carry at most 15 people. The transfer to the sanctuary took less than 10 minutes.

The fish, lots of them, seemed to have sensed our arrival - they excitedly swam to the small opening of the raft. Unfortunately, we forgot to bring bread so we didn't have anything to offer them except for crumbs of Rin-bee which they didn't like. Masyadong choosy! Haha. In our haste to beat the closing time, I completely forgot about buying bread. The last time I went here with a friend, we also didn't bring any food.

These fish have apparently relied on bread crumbs that tourists give them. They've gone oh-so-lazy. I bet none of them has ever tried to leave the sanctuary because of the comfort the place provides. The sanctuary as an attraction doesn't have much to offer other than the abundance of fish. The corals underneath are pretty non-existent.

I learned from a tour guide in El Nido that feeding the fish is one way to destroy the corals. He explained that when fish are being fed, they tend to leave the corals, which need them. Corals develop algae that serves as fish food. When algae grows thicker, the coral won't be able to sustain life. Okay, I'm not sure if my explanation makes any sense but I hope you get my drift. :-)

A famous travel blogger, Edgar of EasyTraveller, has complained online during his recent trip to Tablas about how the sanctuary didn't allow underwater camera. Doesn't make sense, if it's true. My friend had an underwater camera when we went here and she took us a few photos underwater. The guides didn't seem to mind.

One of them even helped retrieve a mask which slipped from our friend's hands and plummeted several feet down. He could probably have retrieved trade printers at the bottom of the ocean if we had seen any.

We stayed at the floating raft for about 45 minutes. We snorkeled to our heart's content and played with the fish. We laughed and had a good time.

The sun was about to set. It was our cue to leave. Besides our stomach was grumbling.

In the evening, we went to the local peryahan (small carnival) where we placed bets.

We went back to the inn with some missing coins.

PinoyWanderingBoy's Top Travel Blogs for 2013

2013-05-27T02:22:00.003+08:00

Dodging the risk of getting mainstream as far as creating my top 15 blog list is concerned, I initially crossed a few outstanding travel sites off my poll. A rather unfair move because most of those blogs deserve a spot in the Top 15 but they've been at the top of the totem pole for quite some time now so excluding them from my list won't even hurt their standing. But I still ended up adding them to the list. I had to!

Most blogs in my list are considered as the underdogs - blogs that are quite unheard of but feature interesting travel stories and insights. In a sea of travel sites, blogs that capture both the heart and imagination can be sparse. When you find one, you consider it a gem, so you bookmark it and subscribe to their feeds. I'm hoping readers to discover these outstanding travel blogs.

Without further ado, here's my personal Top Travel Blogs for 2013.
1. Hannah Reyes' Yellow Adventures tops my list. This ladybug is an outstanding photographer whose photos can leave you breathless. The narrative is also top-notch, her words often tug at the heartstrings. When I discovered Hannah's blog, I read all her posts in one go and yearned for more, that's how addicting her posts are. What I like most about her travel blog is she's able to connect to a personal level, whether through photos or her essays. This particular post, written by her partner, is too poignant beyond words, with pictures that are simply lovely and captivating.

2. Two2Travel is a kind of travel blog that looks and feels like an online travel magazine. Maintained by two young travelers, Owen & Nikka, the site chronicles the duo's travel experiences. With helpful guides and kick-ass photos, Two2Travel is slowly (but surely!) making a name in the travel blogosphere. I wouldn't be surprised if they're nominated as the best travel site come end of the year.

3. Adaphobic is more than just an eye-candy. It is rife with helpful guides and beautiful photos. Ada, the owner of the blog, is simply passionate about making travel guides, guides that actually work and contain valuable information. I haven't met her personally but I do think she's a lovely, bubbly girl with an interesting and charming personality, like her blog.

4. Marj Garra's Layover to Life is a no-frills travel blog with often taut narrative. She claims that her site is a personal journal of her travel experiences but what she probably doesn't know is that her posts provide helpful information to readers who want to see and experience what she's done.

5. When I want to be entertained and be informed at the same time, I head over to Blissfulguro, owned and maintained by a highschool teacher who's got an irrepressible desire to wander off. Although her posts are longer than usual, you'll still find yourself completely engaged in her narrative and learn loads of helpful information on a destination she's featured.

6. Another force to be reckoned with in the writing department is Amer Amor's Juanderkid. The guy is a good writer, no doubt about.

7. What sets PeculiarHours apart from other travel blogs is his photos that often evoke melancholia and nostalgia. Perhaps it's because he uses film, actual film, for his photographs. Not a lot of people do that. Byron doesn't say much in his posts, but when he does he offers insights that can make you really think.

8. When it comes to lists, no one does it better than Paul of Walk Fly Pinoy. The guy has a gift of gab, translated into writing. The quality of his photos is tantamount to those you see in a travel magazine.

9. Gab of PinoyTravelFreak knows what his readers want - great photos and travel tips. And so he takes pictures beautifully and writes practical guide.

10. Joining the list is Oman is an Island by a lawyer/backpacker with a law book on one hand and a camera on the other. Having explored almost all provinces in the Philippines this laddie can truly inspire a wanderlust, with his highly-engaging travel stories and equally stunning photos.

11. It's such a shame that Andrew of Random Trippings has decided to shut his blog for some reason. While he now writes using a different blog, his narrative seems devoid of the intense emotional bravado that his old site had. His old account contained nuggets of wisdom which you barely get from other travel bloggers.

12. I have high respect for travel bloggers who promote their own place. In that regard, I'm including Dhie of IslandGirlTraveller for her undying love for Sibuyan, her home turf.

And my all-time favorite blogs that never fail to inspire me:

13. Ed of SoloFlighted - one of the nicest people in the local travel blogging scene. Ask him anything and he'd tell you everything you need to know.
14. Christian of LakadPilipinas - photos and narrative that are top-notch. It's amazing how he consistently blogs despite his busy schedule.
15. Chyng Reyes of No Spam, No Virus, No Kiddin' - one of the most prolific travel bloggers around. Her humor injected in each post adds charm to her already charming way of narrating things.

How about you, which blogs do you follow?

Jeepney, Motorcycle and Ferry Tales: Sibuyan to Looc

2013-05-26T12:05:00.001+08:00

HAVING WOKEN UP QUITE EARLY the day before, getting up right after the break of dawn the next day had become a relatively easy affair for most of us. No one whined as we packed our stuff and hit the shower one by one (two toilets for the eight of us, no hot water). Jarold, the jeepney that took us to San Fernando two days ago, was going to fetch us from the resort and transport us to the town of Magdiwang where we would be taking a ferry bound for Tablas - our next destination.

It's Day 4 of our Romblon Backpacking Trip and it was going to be a long day. A two-hour jeepney ride to the port of Magdiwang, another 3 hours aboard a ferry to Tablas and almost two hours on motorcycle to Looc. We were hoping to be in Looc before 4pm.

Bags packed, fresh from the shower, we left our small rooms and waited for breakfast by the river. We savored the fresh air and observed the country's cleanest river where the water was as clear as ever.

In the distance, the jumping ledge seemed to taunt me, beckoned me to come back and conquer it. Someday, someday, I said to the river gods that didn't exist. The river looked timeless and tranquil. There was no goodbye, only see you later, Sibuyan. Besides, there was no one we needed to say goodbye to. Except for Dhie, our tour guide. But before the imminent journey, breakfast first.

Breakfast was very basic - dried and super crispy tuyo and a bowl of hot ginataang champorado. For someone who's lactose intolerant, milk didn't seem like a good idea when you have a long trip ahead but the brown champorado looked enticing.

JAROLD

THE TRIP TO MAGDIWANG WAS UNEVENTFUL. Jarold hardly met vehicles along the way but it stopped every now and then to drop and collect passengers. While my companions dozed off, I kept myself occupied by taking photos of the scenery we passed by - rolling plains, the breathtaking Mt. Guiting-Guiting covered in mist, people harvesting in the field... The state of the road made the ride too bumpy, it was impossible to take a photo that wasn't blurry.

[Not as crowded as the previous ride]

It was a two-hour ride to Magdiwang. The road was mostly unpaved with bends and turns that lie precariously near the cliff - huge boulders and surging waves below. Unlike last time, the jeepney didn't have to unload passengers before passing through old bridges, which made the trip much quicker than anticipated.

We arrived at the port a few minutes past 8. M/V Matilde wasn't going to arrive before 10. Two hours felt too long when you've got nothing to do. This is one major problem we see with the transportation system in Sibuyan as far as ferry and jeepney schedules are concerned - there's only one schedule a day and there's nothing you can do about it.

MATILDE

SINCE WE HAD TWO HOURS TO SPARE, we almost ran out of things to do to while the time away. We realized that the best thing to forget about the time is to sleep it off. But sleep we hardly did at the terminal. I was beginning to get bored and when I get bored, I observe people and I imagine what they do for a living. More people came and occupied the benches, making the temperature much hotter. The wall fans scattered around hardly sufficed. It became much harder to doze off. "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" was playing on a small TV set on the wall. It provided a much needed distraction.

[View of Mt. Guiting-Guiting from the wharf in Magdiwang]

A few people stood up and taking their stuff with them, they moved out. We followed suit and joined the queue near the gates. At long last, Matilde had arrived - a little behind the schedule but at least it arrived. That alone was a reason to be happy.

[Nothing to do but sleep]

Matilde lingered at the dock for several minutes. Feeling impatient, I asked one of the crews what time we were leaving. The crew didn't take it too well and answered me with a rather rude: "Malapit na." I shrugged, went back to my seat and tried to sleep but the unbearable heat inside hindered me to lose consciousness even for a few seconds. My seat mates made my space more cramped than it already was.

[My travel companion looks like she's getting impatient of the long trip]

For the first half of the trip, I busied myself taking photos of the sea from the veranda. I simply couldn't stay at my seat. We were approaching Romblon Port when I finally spotted a vacant bench near the door. Its occupant was busy doing a selfie outside. I stifled the urge to laugh when I realized that he's a police man. He did a series of selfie shots, probably trying to achieve the best angle.

He, along with other passengers, alighted the ferry when Matilde moored alongside the wharf. I happily took my stuff from my original seat and transferred them to the one across, which was now unoccupied.

[The fly]

Hawkers climbed up the ship and offered passengers broiled corn and freshly-baked bibingka. Mean while, at the ferry stationed at the same wharf barely a few inches from Matilde, a group of young boys were flying from the top deck to the water below. We watched them with amazement as they climbed the ship, Spider-man style and dove headfirst.

MOTORCYCLE DIARIES

[Approaching San Agustin in Tablas]

FROM THE PORT OF ROMBLON, MATILDE FERRIED its way to San Agustin in Tablas for around 45 minutes. As we were nearing the wharf, I told my companions to stand by the door at the lowest deck so we could easily get out once the ship touched the ground. The plank had been lowered and in haste, we scurried frantically and in pairs, hopped in a random motorcycle.

"Tell the driver to take you to the jeepney bound for Looc," I advised my peers as the motorcycles revved up and sped away.

On the way to the terminal, I did a mental note of the time it would take us to get to Looc if we took a jeepney. We wouldn't make it at 4, for sure. Looc Sanctuary as advised by my cousin was closing at 4:30PM. I asked the motorcycle driver how much it would cost us to travel to Looc via a motorcycle. The initial offer was 600 but we managed to make it to 500. It was expensive, but it was the only way to get to Looc faster.

We did the negotiations near the jeepney terminal. The jeepney driver went ballistic and prevented us from taking the motorcycles (we commissioned 4). He argued that technically we should take the jeepney instead. Thanks but no thanks.

As if on a convoy, four motorcycles engaged in a race down a long and winding road to Looc. Unfortunately, the one we took encountered a few bumps, we ended up changing a motorcycle altogether. Our companions who were several kilometers ahead of us had to halt and wait for us. They were worried and wondered what took us so long.

[We pulled over by the side of the road to fill up gas. These kids gamely posed for the camera]

It was my third time to traverse this part of Tablas. The roads have obviously improved. They are now paved, although some parts are still under construction. It's three towns before Looc, around 40 kilometers. The ride was exciting at first but eventually it took its toll on us. When we hopped down from the motorcycle two hours later, we were limping.

We were able to make it to Looc Sanctuary though, and that's what mattered most.